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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28398318">sing me awake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/burrfication/pseuds/burrfication'>burrfication</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, Fluff, Follows book/game canon, Getting Together, M/M, Mystery immortality, there will also be a fake relationship but not between who you expect</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:15:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28398318</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/burrfication/pseuds/burrfication</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following a car crash, Julian Pankratz is returned to his parents after over a decade of being missing -- but without his memories .  As he pieces his life back together, he chooses the name 'Jaskier' for himself. He is perfectly content to pursue a PhD in the music of the great bard Dandelion, until the White Wolf himself stumbles into his life and stays there. Before long, Jaskier has a new question to ask himself: is he Julian Pankratz, or is he someone or something much, much older?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <i><br/>Geralt hummed an affirmative sound. His eyes bore into Jaskier's, and he could not help but feel as if his every last movement was being observed and catalogued for later examination. Without blinking, he said, </i></p>
<p>  <i>"Dandelion was my husband."</i></p>
<p>  <i>The words hit somewhere deep within Jaskier and rattled around inside his chest. His eyes widened. A peculiar ache swelled in his heart, only to be washed away by a flood of excitement. </i></p>
<p>  <i>"Of course. That explains everything," he breathed.</i><br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>235</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>363</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Awake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Welcome everyone!</p>
<p>A couple of quick notes: firstly, this predominantly follows book-and-game canon, but long, long after it. As for Jaskier... I've scattered both hints and red herrings about what's going on, so feel free to guess in the comments! Depending on which parts of the witcher lore you know, the general shape may or may not be obvious. The title is also a hint and not just a song lyric.</p>
<p>This work is mostly non-explicit, but will have sexual content in later chapters. I will make the content clear and as easy as possible to skip if that's not your jam.</p>
<p>Lastly, if you're wondering about my other ongoing witcher fic, it's on hiatus until early Jan, as I don't currently have access to the computer I wrote it on. I will be updating it ASAP.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They told him his name was Julian. </p>
<p>The told him a lot of things, in fact, like how he had been missing since age five; how he had  been found naked in the street after a car crash; how dearly his parents had missed him. He remembered none of it. The first thing he remembered was waking up in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and a sense of urgency. He was questioned for hours, first by the doctors, then by the police. No matter what they tried, he remembered nothing. The only clue to his past was a filthy old silver ring on his ring finger. Detectives tried to take it from him, but he refused, snatching his hand away and glaring at them. He would cooperate with anything else, but the ring was his. </p>
<p>His identity would have been a mystery if he had not been a famous cold case. The detective took one look at his face and went pale, making a series of frantic calls. Within a matter of hours, he was introduced to his family. His mother cried when she saw him and hugged him, even though he wasn't sure he was the hugging type. He patted her on the back and wondered if he was meant to feel something. His father asked lots of questions and only frowned when he could not answer, which was easier to deal with. Disapproval was easier to bear than disappointment. </p>
<p>His sister, at least, seemed to accept his condition. She saw how he tensed when their mother hugged him, so she settled for a handshake and a bright smile. Her name was Priscilla, and he loved her instantly. He confided his frustration and boredom in her, and she took immediate action, providing him films, music and books. Boredom, it seemed had been his biggest problem, as he began to recover rapidly once he was entertained. Of all the things she brought, he loved the music the best. When she discovered he loved music, she made him playlists in every conceivable genre. When they discovered he knew how to read music, she went a step further, convincing the doctors that playing an instrument was essential for his recovery. She showed up the next day with the violin she had played as a child. Something inside him stirred at the sight of the instrument. He did not remember anything about playing any instrument, but he learnt at what they told him was an alarming pace. </p>
<p>Three weeks after waking up, he confided in her,  "Priscilla, I don't feel like a Julian."</p>
<p>"Who do you feel like, then?"</p>
<p>He considered it. He thought about music, and stories, and the little yellow flowers that stubbornly bloomed in the hospital's withered garden. No matter how badly the gardener tried to kill them, they grew back.</p>
<p>"Jaskier."</p>
<p>"Well then,  Jaskier, it's a pleasure to meet you," she said, and Jaskier beamed. He pulled her into a hug, and for the first time, he understood what it was to have a family.</p>
<p>With Priscilla's help, he convinced the hospital and police to change his legal name to Jaskier Pankratz. His parents were less thrilled, but Priscilla assured him they would come around in time. They were still reconciling the fact that their son was now an eighteen year old man, and not the bratty toddler they had lost. </p>
<p>"Bratty?" Jaskier asked, outraged. Priscilla grimaced. </p>
<p>"You liked to throw things at me, and you fed the dog bleach just to see what would happen."</p>
<p>The outrage vanished as Jaskier blanched. The very idea made him nauseous. "I'd never!"</p>
<p>"You, maybe not," Priscilla allowed. "But dear little Julian did."</p>
<p>Before Jaskier was permitted to leave hospital, he was subejcted to a barrage of exams. The psychological exams were dull, but to his relief, he passed them with flying colours. What issues he had would not keep him contained in the hospital. Satisfied with his mental health, they moved on with his education. He sat test after test, answering questions on language and mathematics and history until his hand ached from holding a pen. The results were telling -- but what they were telling, no one could say. His grasp of language was unparalleled. He could write and analyse text at a postgraduate level, though modern slang sometimes caught him off guard. His mathematics was decent, except for his calculus, which was non-existent. History and geography were similarly patchy, and his science was dreadful. When they told him the earth was a sphere, he laughed for ten minutes straight. It took them several hours to convince him the earth was not flat, and longer still when they claimed the moon controlled the tides. He knew nothing of physics or chemistry and little of magic or technology. The one exception was biology. He knew basic anatomy and some first aid, and he could name dozens of different plants and their uses in traditional medicine. His knowledge of animals was rudimentary, except for exotic post-Conjunction species, which he knew more about than anyone outside of zoology and conservationists. It was determined that while there were gaps in his education, he was clever and would learn quickly. He could graduate within a year. </p>
<p>Once it became clear that Jaskier was no threat to himself or anyone around him, they released him from hospital. Moving in with his parents felt like stepping into a shrine to a forgotten god. They had changed nothing in his room since he had disappeared, leaving him with a racecar bed and toy dinosaurs scattered all over the floor. He hesitated, then asked, </p>
<p>"Is there another room? If you need it like this, I don't want to ruin things."</p>
<p>"Oh, Julian," his mother said, and hugged him. She sobbed into his shoulder, and he sent Priscilla a terrified look. He patted her on the back, awkwardly, and wished he was anywhere else. The phrase "oh, Julian" reappeared in most of their conversations, despite his hatred of the name. Of his family, only Priscilla saw fit to use his actual name. </p>
<p>Fortunately, his family happened to be old money, so there was no shortage of rooms. They showed him three guest bedrooms to choose from. He took the largest one, with a view over the river and a massive built in wardrobe stocked with suits, slacks and neat button- down shirts. Priscilla took one look at the wardrobe and shook her head. </p>
<p>"Honestly, you're a man, not a doll for mum to dress as she likes. We'll take you shopping."</p>
<p>Priscilla took him to half a dozen shops before she let him buy anything, and made him try on a dozen outfits in each. She needn't have bothered. As soon as Jaskier set his eyes on the bright colours of modern fashion, he was smitten. He delighted in the vast array of patterns and colours, putting together outfits in red and purple and eye-searing yellow. Priscilla proved a willing accomplice: once he made his preference clear, she steered him away from more conservative stores and pointed out patterns he might like. </p>
<p>Before returning home, she took him to a musical instrument store. His fingers itched at the sight of the instruments, and for the first time, he felt like he might remember something. There was something familiar about playing that called to him. He tried almost every instrument in the shop, but none felt right. The closest he came was a guitar. He picked an acoustic one made from pale wood, along with plectrums and a capo and an electronic tuner. Within a week, he had abandoned all the accessories, preferring to tune by ear and strum or pluck with his fingers. </p>
<p>His family's approach to the wardrobe played out again and again. His parents took him to fine restaurants with twelve-course degustations with matching wines; Priscilla took him to tiny restaurants run by immigrants serving dumplings and curries and more kinds of food than he could have believed. When his parents took him to the opera,  Priscilla took him to a rock show with local bands. In place of literature, she gave him tacky novels, and she took him all kinds of places their parents never would have approved of. For the most part, he preferred Priscilla's way of doing things, but there was one notable exception. He loved old plays and music. The moment he first heard a lute, he felt as if he were lifted from the floor. He laughed at the comedies and wept at the tragedies. When the songs told of adventure, he listened with rapt attention, hanging on every word,  and when they played dancing tunes, it took all his self control not to stand in the stall and dance. On the way home, he could not stop himself from talking about the performance.</p>
<p>"You must take after your grandmother," his mother said,  looking at him fondly. "She always loved Dandelion's songs, too."</p>
<p>"Tell me about her?" Jaskier asked. The night had shaken something loose in him. There was an emptiness inside him that he had not noticed before, but now that he knew it was there, it felt aching and gaping and hollow. At first he hoped it might be some feeling of connection to his grandmother, but as he learnt about her, he put that idea aside. She had loved only the romances and the tragedies and the act of going to the theatre. It was, he thought, a distinctly upper-class way of engaging with the material. The thought filled him with disdain, although he could not say why. Perhaps it was because his own appreciation was the polar opposite. Even performed by artists in tailored suits in the most prestigious venue in Oxenfurt, the work carried a mischievous undercurrent Jaskier had latched on to. Despite the complex rhyming schemes and genius lyrics, the songs had not been written exclusively for the educated. When Dandelion had been alive, they had been sung from the highest court to the lowliest tavern. Only time had rendered it into the exclusive domain of the educated and the wealthy. </p>
<p>A week later, his mother presented him with a hard-cover, hand-illustrated, horrendously expensive copy of Dandelion's works. Much of the bard's material had been lost through the years, but generations of scholars had worked to restore it. Some songs had only a single line, while others came with several stanzas contradicting one another. For a few, they even had records of the music itself, allowing modern artists to play the old songs. Jaskier immediately secluded himself in his room with his guitar, trying to recreate the feeling hearing the lute had given him. He came achingly close. When he managed to transcribe one of the fragments, he felt his heart soar. Without thinking, he played well beyond the fragment itself, pausing every now and then to find the right note on his guitar. Somewhere in the depths of his soul, he knew what came next. Anything else felt jarringly wrong, like nails scratching on a blackboard. He could not explain how he knew, but it must, he concluded, be his way of writing music. If it was, he was not about to complain. What came out was beautiful, and fit the mood of the song perfectly. </p>
<p>Music became the focus of his life. When he was allowed to graduate high school after a three month intensive course, he did so with a full scholarship to Oxenfurt University. He would study a double degree in history and music, with a particular focus on Dandelion and his contemparies. His mother wept when he announced his intention to go to college. </p>
<p>"We only just got you back," she wailed, clinging to him in tears. </p>
<p>"I'll visit," Jaskier promised. "But I need this. I need time to figure out who I am."</p>
<p>"Which I suppose is why you're studying arts rather than business," his father sighed. "Well, at least it's a scholarship."</p>
<p>Priscilla was much more supportive. Her extracurricular activities included college aged people, so she introduced him to people who attended the same university. He fit in with the troupe immediately. They delighted in his habit of bursting out with little fragments of song and improvised along with him. Something in his chest loosened at the easy acceptance, and he set down a burden he hadn't known he held. It was enough to make him wonder what else he was carrying. </p>
<p>To the surprise of everyone who knew him, Jaskier graduated in two years. This was despite his life-changing discoveries of alcohol, parties, and sex. He spent two whole weeks drunk at one point; another time, he slept in his own bed only once for an entire month. The gender (or genders) of his partner did not phase him: as long as they were pretty and enthusiastic, he was interested. He gained a reputation very quickly, and it was not one he pretended to be ashamed of. </p>
<p>As he neared the end of his degree, he began to consider his options. His father wanted him to go law school, or perhaps study medicine, and there was one part of that idea Jaskier liked, the idea of postgraduate study. He visited various members of the arts faculty at the university, until one of his professors decided to introduce him to an academic specialising in Dandelion's work. He led him through the old and draughty halls, past the break room with a mouldy coffee machine and the sterile labs filled with historical artifacts. At the end of the hall, he knocked on the door. </p>
<p>"Professor Estellirt?"</p>
<p>The door opened a fraction.  "If this is about that argument I had with Webster -"</p>
<p>"It's not. Katrien, I've got a student interested in our PhD program you might want to meet. He's shown a remarkable talent for music, and he's particularly interested in Dandelion's work."</p>
<p>The door opened wider. "Come on, then."</p>
<p>"I'll leave you two to it," his professor, leaving Jaskier alone with the strange professor. He stepped into the office. A woman in her early forties sat behind a desk drowning in papers. More papers filled nearly every surface in the room. They peeked out of filing cabinets and sat on top of large textbooks. There was a stack of papers on the chair he had been invited to sit on, and he hesitated. </p>
<p>"Should I, uh…"</p>
<p>"Just toss them on the ground, they're just first year assignments, they don't matter."</p>
<p>He gathered the papers and gingerly set them on the ground beside the chair. When he looked back up, the professor was staring at him with wide eyes. </p>
<p>"Sorry, what did you say your name was?"</p>
<p>"Jaskier Pankratz. Gavald said you had PhD funding available?"</p>
<p>The academic's  mouth worked silently for a few moments before she pulled herself together. "Yes, of course.  You're interested in Dandelion then?"</p>
<p>Jaskier nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward in his seat.</p>
<p>"He's underappreciated. I want to translate his work for a modern audience."</p>
<p>"None of the songs are complete."</p>
<p>"So we fill in the gaps. It's a distinctive style, it's not hard to come up with something thematically appropriate."</p>
<p>"Hmm," the professor said, and the argument began. They debated for hours about the merits and risks and inherent hubris of the task. After several hours, she fetched a lute from storage and gave it to Jaskier. </p>
<p>"You said you've been playing his songs. So play."</p>
<p>"On guitar!" Jaskier protested, even as he took the lute and inspected it. He grimaced at the built-in frets and metal wires, pushing them around and twisting the pegs. The task took his whole focus, and he did not even realise what he was doing until it was complete. He looked up to see Professor Estellirt watching him with a strange look on her face. </p>
<p>"Interesting tuning scheme."</p>
<p>Jaskier shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "Maybe I've played before? I got hit by a car a couple of years ago. I still don't remember a thing from before."</p>
<p>"Right," she said. "Play, then."</p>
<p>Jaskier closed his eyes. He took a deep breath - and played. The music flowed from the heart. His fingers danced across the strings, playing the famous "Toss A Coin" as if he'd spent years studying it. When he finished, silence fell. Jaskier's heart pounded in his chest. </p>
<p>"I don't understand," he admitted. His voice came out soft and small, like a young child begging their parent for help. </p>
<p>"Neither do I," Professor Estellirt said, and smiled. "Which is an excellent start to a PhD."</p>
<p>He moved from college to a tiny apartment across the river from the academy. It did not have the luxuries of his parents' house, nor the convenience of college, but it was his and his alone. His queen bed took up the entire bedroom, with less than a foot of space down one side facing the wardrobe. The kitchen was tiny and tiled in lime green, and the combined living and dining area was scarcely large enough for a small table and even smaller couch. The bathroom ceiling was riddled with mold and the entire building was infested with rodents, but Jaskier didn't care. It was his, and he loved it. </p>
<p>His PhD position afforded him an office at the academy, shared with another student in an adjacent discipline. For many students, their office companion became a trusted confidant and a place for academic debate free of judgement. There was often no one else in their life who understood the daily reality of their research. They were supposed to be a comfort, someone who could share in your rage over a misapplied statistical technique or an outdated view of 13th century grammar.</p>
<p>Jaskier's office mate was his mortal nemesis. He was a proud proponent of the Cidaran Conspiracy: the claim that as a travelling bard, Dandelion could not have written the brilliant songs and plays he had. Only someone who had lived at court could have produced such marvellous prose. The Cidarans had the perfect answer: Valdo Marx. The man had been a contemporary of Dandelion's, and his sworn rival, and had written songs and plays himself. The key difference was that unlike Dandelion, his works were universally dreadful. They had been written to appeal to the baser instincts of man and promote the power of whatever lord had paid for his services. Not in a million years could Valdo have written even the least of Dandelion's works. Jaskier could scarcely think of a higher insult. Not only did such a take reek of classism and an inferiority complex, but Dandelion would be rolling in his grave if he knew. </p>
<p>"Maybe that's how they lost him?" his office mate joked, and there was a vindictive grin on his face at Jaskier's obvious distress.</p>
<p>A few years prior, archaeologists had been ecstatic to discover Dandelion's long lost tomb. Instead of the grand mausoleum they had expected, it had been a little cairn deep in a cave in the middle of an ancient forest. He had been laid to rest with his lute, his notebook, and a long silver knife. No tombstone marked the site. Despite that, there was evidence of regular pilgrimage to the cairn, as the ground around it was strewn with bouquets of flowers tied with simple string. The body itself lay in torn clothes of blue and purple. Everything had been remarkably well preserved, likely due to the ancient magic runes found throughout the cave system. Even the body itself looked as though he was only sleeping.</p>
<p>The body and associated materials had been taken to Oxenfurt University, along with rubbings of the runes in the cave. The clothes, lute, journal, and knife were all taken to the museum. The body itself was laid out in the lab and covered with a sheet for the night, with the autopsy to be conducted the next morning. Someone, in a fit of sentiment, left a recording of his music playing in the same room. But when the researchers arrived the next morning, the body had vanished. Worse, no one had the faintest idea who had taken it or where it could have gone. The lens on every camera in the building had cracked, along with every piece of glass in the building. Aside from the debris of shattered mirrors and windows, there was no sign of the thieves. Not one footprint could be found. It was as if he had simply vanished. </p>
<p>The loss had been a scandal in the academic community. Even the mainstream media picked up on it. There was a brief burst of interest in his work, resulting in a lot of tasteless (but admittedly entertaining) takes on his songs about the undead. It made Jaskier's work easier. His PhD project was to produce five modern translations of Dandelion's songs. Even if people only knew Dandelion as "the missing dead poet", it was a place to start. </p>
<p>Even with his uncanny intuition for Dandelion's music, each song was a long and arduous process. Once he had chosen a song, he had to track down all confirmed or suspected fragments. He then assembled the outline of the song, providing a detailed argument for each line or gap. He had to motivate every new element he added until he had an acceptable recreation of the original song. The crafting process could take months. Only once he had an authentic version he could perform on his lute did he begin to translate it into a more modern style. This last step was his favourite part of the process. Beneath the old-fashioned language, the songs were genuinely good. It was easy to tweak them into a more modern style, replacing the lute with guitar and adding more instruments to enhance the accompaniment. </p>
<p>When he at last released his first song online, he found himself sick with nerves. In the hour after he uploaded it, he refreshed the page ten times to see if there were any hits or comments. After the tenth time, he huffed and turned off both his phone and computer. He spent a few hours sitting by the window of his apartment playing his lute before retiring to bed. </p>
<p>He was woken the next morning by the sound of someone pounding on his front door. </p>
<p>"Jaskier, if you don't open the door this instant, I'm telling Mum you're the one that drank her favourite and replaced it with Gordon’s."</p>
<p>Jaskier bolted for the door, hopping into a pair of boxers as he did so. When he opened the door, Priscilla breezed into the apartment and sat at the table.  </p>
<p>"Would it kill you to reply to a text? I know you're famous now, but you can't just leave us little people behind."</p>
<p>"Priscilla, it's the crack of dawn. I have no idea what you're talking about," Jaskier said. He left her in the kitchen and went to the bedroom, where he pulled on tracksuit pants and an old tshirt.</p>
<p>"It's nine A.M."</p>
<p>"Crack of dawn," Jaskier yawned. He dropped into the seat opposite his sister and grabbed the cup of coffee she held out for him. He grabbed it and downed half the sugary beverage in one shot.</p>
<p>"You haven't checked your phone this morning, have your?" Priscilla asked with a glint in her eye. Something about the look on her face unnerved him. Gingerly, he pulled out his phone and reconnected it to the internet. It immediately began to vibrate. Panicking, he dropped it on the table, where it buzzed and let out a cacophony of bells, whistles, and dings from almost every app on his phone. Priscilla, eternally helpful, snapped a photo of the look of panic in his face. </p>
<p>"What the fuck?"</p>
<p>"You posted a video last night," Priscilla reminded him. When his phone finally silenced, Jaskier picked it up and began to scroll through his notifications. Sure enough, every last one was related to his performance of Her Sweet Kiss. He had gained tens of thousands of followers overnight. He had media requests from radio and television stations as far away as Nilfgaard. Half his fans didn't even realise it was an old song, responding to it as they would and other popular hit. </p>
<p>"Mum wants to know who 'her' is. I told her it was an old song, but she didn't want to listen."</p>
<p>Jaskier banged his head against the table and left it there. "Fuck. Isn't it obvious? It's not really about her,  Dandelion's clearly pining over whoever is with her. It’s the Jolene of the thirteenth century."</p>
<p>Priscilla slurped up the last of her drink. "Well, good thing you're bi, because everyone is going to think it's you pining."</p>
<p>"Fuck."</p>
<p>"Try again. You're not going to convince anyone if all you do is swear about it."</p>
<p>"I hate you," Jaskier groaned.</p>
<p>"The real question is what you're going to do next," Priscilla said, leaning back in net chair and putting her feet up on the table. "How long until you release another song?"</p>
<p>Jaskier groaned. "Her Sweet Kiss took six months. All I had was the melody, the first line, and something about trudging a path."</p>
<p>"Then pick something more complete. You need to capitalise on this."</p>
<p>As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. The next month and a half of Jaskier's life was taken up by interviews and television appearances. Each appearance came with a small sum of money, supplementing his frankly pitiful living stipend. His academic work received a boom in citations. And above all, everyone wanted to know when he would release his next song. To accelerate the process, he chose a more complete song and hoped his audience liked adventure stories. Dandelion's accounts of his travels with the White Wolf had been well documented and remained the world's premier historical source on witchers.</p>
<p>Once tasked with exterminating post-Conjunction creatures, the few remaining witchers in the world had found their supernatural skills sought after for different reasons. With the exception of necrophages and wraiths, most post-Conjunction species had become incredibly rare. Trolls had been hunted to the edge of extinction. Most draconids had been right behind them until a dedicated political campaign had raised concern surrounding their impending extinction. Suddenly, charities and governments had been obsessed with saving them. Zoos began dedicated breeding programs. Posters of baby griffins began to appear in shops, and people wearing basilisk skin boots found themselves with harassed by activists. Strangest of all, witchers were called upon to protect them. Witchers had centuries of knowledge about post-Conjunction creatures that no one else had, and their mutations made them strong enough to deal with the beasts themselves. They became conservationists. A witcher contract was as likely to call for aid with a basilisk breeding program as to wipe out a den of ghouls.</p>
<p>Despite this, people still treated witchers with trepidation. Perhaps it was their supernatural strength, or their catlike eyes, or even their sheer age. The youngest known witcher was over 500 years old and reportedly didn't look a day over 30. That tended to unsettle most humans. Non-humans felt differently, but then,  Jaskier had no idea how elves and dwarfs felt about witchers. Maybe they got along. </p>
<p>He suspected they did not, based on one of Dandelion's songs. It told of the famous White Wolf driving elves from the then human held Dol Blathanna at the behest of the local humans. It was the best preserved song, making it the ideal target for Jaskier's project. He would, however, have to take some liberties. He may not be particularly interested in politics, but even he could see a song about murdering elves would attract the wrong kind of attention. Fortunately, many new verses had been added to the song over Dandelion's lifetime, so there was plenty of material to work with. He chose three nearly complete, inoffensive verses and set to work. </p>
<p>He released two more songs in quick succession, then started work on a third. The third took longer, but he kept up his online presence by writing and releasing a combination of covers of modern songs and his own original music. To his delight, people loved his original songs as much as Dandelion's. To everyone but scholars, there was no real difference beyond the subject matter. Jaskier could not have imagined a better compliment. </p>
<p>It also put him in a unique position. The academic path was laid out before him. With the popularity of his work both in and out of academia, he would have no trouble getting a post-doctoral position at any institution he chose. He might even be able to waltz right into a tenure-track position. It was a better position than he could have imagined being in a few years ago. But academia was not the only path available to him. With his booming popularity, Jaskier could take to the road and go on tour. He could live the life of a musician, with all the thrills and risks that came with it. It was a riskier path, but one he found sorely tempting. The allure of the stage called to him, and he was not sure of was a call he could ignore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. White Wolf</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content warnings: kidnapping and hostage situations.</p>
<p>If you're unfamiliar with game lore, I've put a brief description at the end of the chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first clue Jaskier had that something was wrong was the sound of raised voices coming from his supervisor's office. He crept closer, intending to eavesdrop. As he did so, a male voice thundered,  </p>
<p>"What do you mean, you lost him?"</p>
<p>Jaskier's head spun. The world pitched in front of him as the rage and the fury in the man's voice echoed in his head. He retreated to his office. He chalked the action up to a response to the unseasonal spring heat lying over Oxenfurt, ignoring the peculiar timing of the dizzy spell. Once his head cleared, he drained his water bottle and pulled out his lute. Strictly speaking, he ought to be digging through the archives for more fragments of songs, but he was not sure he could handle that at this point. Instead, he played his favourite songs. His voice blended seamlessly with his lute as he sang, bringing ancient songs back to life.  </p>
<p>The door to his office slammed open with enough force that it smashed into the wall. A man stood in the doorway, staring at Jaskier with wide golden eyes. </p>
<p>"Dandelion," he breathed. His voice was a low rumble, and something about his tone made Jaskier's heart ache. He smiled at him, and said,  </p>
<p>"Oh, you're a fan,  too? I've been - wait."</p>
<p>Jaskier interrupted himself to stare at the intruder. His silver hair was shaved at the sides and pulled back into a ponytail,  revealing several scars on his face. He wore a leather vest, and two swords hung on his back. The golden eyes that stared at Jaskier had thin pupils like a cat, which dilated even as Jaskier watched.  He inhaled sharply, anticipation creeping up his spine.  </p>
<p>"I know who you are.  You're the White Wolf, aren't you?"</p>
<p>Before he could answer, Jaskier jumped to his feet and held out a hand to shake. "Jaskier Pankratz. It's an honour to meet you, sir, Dandelion wrote so much about you. I don't suppose you'd consent to an interview? I have so many questions."</p>
<p>"Jaskier," the White Wolf said, as if trying the name out. He looked Jaskier up and down and hummed to himself. Jaskier stood as still as possible as he was weighed up, silently praying that the witcher would say yes. Here was a living, breathing source of information. He'd known Dandelion personally. Jaskier could only imagine the stories he might know and the songs he might remember.  </p>
<p>The White Wolf gestured to the lute.  "You play well."</p>
<p>Coming from someone who had heard Dandelion play, that was high praise indeed. A beaming grin spread across his face. With such a compliment, he couldn't even care that his offer of a handshake went ignored. Instead, he started rambling about his lute. He told him about how it had been a gift, and how he seemed to know to play without training, and how desperately he wanted to bring it into his modern pieces, because as much as he loved his guitar it just wasn't right. The witcher grunted.</p>
<p>"Metal strings."</p>
<p>"Gut's harder to source and harder to maintain. And everyone these days uses metal, so I'd have to figure out how to use sheep gut without any help. Seems like a lot of effort for something that wouldn’t last long."</p>
<p>The White Wolf hummed. Jaskier began to explain the intricacies of the modern lute scene, only to be interrupted by campus security.</p>
<p>"Sir, you need to leave."</p>
<p>"Says who?" Jaskier wanted to know, stepping between the witcher and the terrified security guard.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier, it's fine," the witcher said, which Jaskier ignored.</p>
<p>"No, it's not fine. Shut up and let me handle this," he ordered, then turned to the security guard. "Listen. This is my office and my guest, so you can fuck right off. You're not wanted or needed."</p>
<p>"Professor Estellirt --"</p>
<p>"Kat won't mind, she'll be dying to meet him," Jaskier asserted. Behind him, Geralt cleared his throat.  </p>
<p>"The woman with the office at the end of the hall?"</p>
<p>Jaskier nodded. "Katrien Estellirt. She's my supervisor."</p>
<p>"Fuck."</p>
<p>"Eloquent," Jaskier snorted. He glanced back over his shoulder at the witcher and grinned. His grin only widened at the grumpy glare he got in response. The security guard took a step back in fear, but it did not even occur to Jaskier to be afraid. For all his inhumanity, the White Wolf did not seem remotely intimidating, despite what the rest of the world seemed to think. To his surprise, Jaskier found he wanted to know him. It was one thing to harbour an academic curiosity in the man who had known his hero, but Jaskier's interest ran deeper than that, beyond the parts of the White Wolf that were associated with Dandelion. Or possibly shallower, because now that he thought about it, he was a very attractive man. Were there ethics concerns, he wondered, in sleeping with someone related to his research? Probably, but for the witcher, he may risk it.  </p>
<p>Turning back to the security guard, he said, "There's really nothing to worry about. I was just about to take my guest out for coffee, anyway."</p>
<p>He took a moment to collect his jacket and wallet before leading the witcher outside. The guard trailed awkwardly after them until they went downstairs and exited the building. Jaskier led the way to a cafe off-campus cluttered with big plush chairs and upside-down milk crates for tables.  </p>
<p>"What are you having?"</p>
<p>"Coffee. Black."</p>
<p>"Boring," Jaskier said and ordered him the same sugar-filled monstrosity that he was getting. They took a seat by the window.  </p>
<p>"So, White Wolf, I   -"</p>
<p>"Geralt. My name is Geralt."</p>
<p>"Geralt,"  Jaskier echoed. He grinned, and to his delight Geralt smiled back. It was a tiny smile, the slightest upwards twitch of his lips, but something told him that it was a rare victory.  </p>
<p>"So, Geralt. What did you do to get Kat to call the cops on you?"</p>
<p>"Your supervisor is a grave robber," Geralt said. At that exact moment, the waitress decided to deliver their drinks. She turned and raised her eyebrows at Jaskier before scurrying away, doubtlessly to gossip with her friends. He couldn't blame her. In her position, he'd do the exact same thing.  </p>
<p>"Archeology isn't grave robbing," Jaskier pointed out. A moment later, he made the connection. "This is about Dandelion?"</p>
<p>Geralt hummed an affirmative sound. His eyes bore into Jaskier's, and he could not help but feel as if his every last movement was being observed and catalogued for later examination. Without blinking, he said,  </p>
<p>"Dandelion was my husband."</p>
<p>The words hit somewhere deep within Jaskier and rattled around inside his chest. His eyes widened. A peculiar ache swelled in his heart, only to be washed away by a flood of excitement.  </p>
<p>"Of course. That explains everything," he breathed.  </p>
<p>"Yes," Geralt said, and leaned forward, but before he could say any more, Jaskier burst into a verbal analysis. He explained the various points in Dandelion's work that had hinted at such a relationship, but that had been ignored by historians. But when taken as a representation of Dandelion's life and not just his work, the meaning was clear.  Geralt hasn't just been his muse for his ballads about adventure,  but the muse for romance, too. As Jaskier talked, Geralt leaned back in his seat. After five minutes, he picked up his drink and took a cautious sip. He did not comment on the pile of whipped cream on top of the drink, nor the several tablespoons of sugar undoubtedly in there – but a few moments later, he took another sip. Jaskier counted that as a victory.  </p>
<p>He was halfway through questioning Geralt about a particular song when his phone rang. He grimaced and pulled it out for long enough to hang up on the caller, then resumed talking. A few seconds later, it rang again.  </p>
<p>"It's alright. Answer," Geralt said.  </p>
<p>"Ugh, sorry," Jaskier said, and picked up his phone. "What?"</p>
<p>"Jaskier, it's Kat. I'm sorry to call you but you need to know, there's a very angry man taking offence with research into Dandelion,  and you need to be careful. He could be dangerous."</p>
<p>As she spoke, Jaskier watched Geralt take another sip of his drink. A tiny dot of cream stuck on his nose. Warm affection flooded through his body, and he felt his cheeks turn pink. He did indeed have to be careful, or Geralt may well steal his heart.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier? Are you listening?"</p>
<p>"I'm getting coffee with him," he said. He covered the receiver and said to Geralt, "It's Kat."</p>
<p>Geralt hummed, and one corner of his lips twitched upwards. "She's still talking."</p>
<p>When he lifted the phone back to his ear, Kat was indeed still talking, warning him about the threat Geralt posed. At the mention of danger, Jaskier tried and failed to suppress a snort of laughter. It was hard to be afraid of a man with cream on his nose. He tapped his own nose and watched Geralt reach up to touch his own, brow furrowed in confusion. Warmth bloomed in Jaskier's chest at the sight, and he felt a smile creep over his lips. Melitele preserve him, this man was adorable.  </p>
<p>"Listen," he interrupted, "I appreciate the concern, but I'm not going to listen to any of your advice. I'm fine. Now, if you don't mind, I'd really like to get back to my coffee."</p>
<p>He did not wait for an answer before hanging up. The call irked him. He had only known Geralt for an hour, and he was already thoroughly tired of people treating him as a threat.  </p>
<p>"Dandelion was right. People are idiots when it comes to you."</p>
<p>"I did threaten to tear the university apart looking for him."</p>
<p>"Fair enough, if he was your husband," Jaskier said with a shrug. "What stopped you?"</p>
<p>"I ran into you. Got distracted," Geralt said, gesturing to him. "I need time to think. There's something here I'm missing."</p>
<p>He leaned forward a little and rested his elbow on one knee. "But we're not here to discuss me. Hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got a few questions. You're a scholar. Did you see his body?"</p>
<p>"I was in hospital at the time, but I've heard the stories," Jaskier said with a shrug. “He went missing in the dead of night, no one knows how.”  </p>
<p>"Hospital?"</p>
<p>Jaskier sighed. He launched into his usual explanation of the situation. He had told his story so many times now he had the script down pat, pre-empting questions and scattering jokes through emotionally intense moments. He barely registered the words leaving his mouth. The entire time, Geralt's catlike eyes watched him, taking in every little twitch of motion. When he was done, Geralt asked,  </p>
<p>"And what made you so interested in Dandelion?"</p>
<p>"The music," Jaskier said, not even hesitating. "The first time I heard it was -- indescribable. He was a genius. I can't believe more people don't listen to him, all because the music is old. That's why I started my PhD project. I'm translating his songs into the modern era. It's been a huge success."</p>
<p>For just a moment, Geralt's eyes closed, and he clenched his hand into a fist. He relaxed a moment later, and when he looked into his eyes again, there was something dreadfully vulnerable there.  </p>
<p>"Will you play for me?"</p>
<p>"I don't have my instrument here," Jaskier said apologetically, "but I do have this."</p>
<p>He pulled out his phone and navigated to a recording of his favourite performance. He passed the phone to Geralt, along with his earbuds. Geralt examined them with great suspicion before inserting them into his ears and plugging the wire into the phone. He pressed play.  </p>
<p>Jaskier braced himself for any number of possible reactions, but he was not prepared for what happened. Geralt was entranced. His pupils dilated until they were huge and round, and a few seconds later his mouth parted. If there were words to describe the emotion on his face, Jaskier did not know them. All he could guess was the intensity of the feelings, which were enough for the witcher to forget his surroundings entirely. He replayed the video two times before looking up at Jaskier with wide eyes.  </p>
<p>"Can I -- how can I see this again?"</p>
<p>"It's on YouTube," Jaskier said. Geralt's brow pulled together in befuddlement.  </p>
<p>"YouTube?"</p>
<p>"It's -- here, let me show you."</p>
<p>Jaskier abandoned his seat to squeeze into the same oversized armchair as Geralt. There was not quite enough room for both of them, so their hips and thighs pressed together. Heat radiated off his body. When Jaskier chanced a glance upwards, he saw Geralt's eyebrows raise at his proximity. His pupils had started to narrow again, now taking the shape of fat, vertical ovals.  </p>
<p>"Hush," Jaskier said, and took back his phone. He taught Geralt how to navigate YouTube and showed him his channel.  He pointed out how to create his own account so he could upload videos and add comments and taught him how to set a secure password. Geralt proved to be an outstanding student. Despite being plainly unfamiliar with smartphones and the internet, he picked up on what Jaskier was saying quickly.  </p>
<p>"You really don't have a phone?" Jaskier asked after a while. Geralt shifted to one side and pulled all ancient Nokia out of his pockets.  </p>
<p>"It does what I need."</p>
<p>"It's a relic," Jaskier said. "Melitele’s tits, that thing looks older than I am."</p>
<p>"It's a phone. It lets me call people."</p>
<p>"Geralt, I know you're old as balls, but we need to get you into the twenty-first century. Please tell me you at least have a computer."</p>
<p>"Got an old laptop in the car. Probably not up to your standards, though."</p>
<p>"Well, if you can access the internet, you can find the same videos on there," Jaskier told him.  </p>
<p>"Hmm," Geralt said, and tapped on the thumbnail for another video with Jaskier. This close, Jaskier heard the tiny hitch in his breath when the on-screen Jaskier started to sing. While he watched, Jaskier grabbed a napkin and scribbled instructions on the back so Geralt could find the videos himself. After a moment of internal debate, he added his mobile number. He liked Geralt. He thought Geralt liked him, too, and if he was lucky, they would see each other again.  </p>
<p>They separated at dusk -  Jaskier for his apartment, and Geralt for the graveyard. A wraith had been bothering people there for a few weeks, and while no one had died yet, it was only a matter of time. No matter how much Jaskier begged to come, Geralt refused. A monster hunt was no place for a human.  </p>
<p>"You let Dandelion follow you," Jaskier said, following close on his heels.  Geralt halted and turned on the spot. The movement was so so abrupt that Jaskier did not have time to stop and collided right into his broad chest.  </p>
<p>"He died, Jaskier. I let him follow me, and he died," Geralt said. His voice was flat, but Jaskier could hear the anger simmering beneath. The sound was savage and bitter and heart-wrenchingly human, for all his too-sharp teeth and deep rumbling voice. Jaskier put his hands up in a gesture of surrender. He may be desperate to follow Geralt,  but he was not going to disrespect the wishes of a man who was still grieving. Over 700 years had passed, but Geralt seemed to feel the loss as if Dandelion had died yesterday. It was enough to move a man to tears. It was the love of legends, and Jaskier was sure he could write such a song of it that it would move even the hardest hearts to tears. He would drown in accolades and applause.  </p>
<p>He knew, with equal certainty, that he would not do it. It would come at the price of Geralt's respect, as well as any warm feelings he might feel towards him. And that was to say nothing of his own self-respect. The idea of using his friend's pain to profit felt dirty. No, this was one thing Jaskier would not sing about. He stood on the pavement and watched as Geralt stalked away, the city crowds passing for him as people stepped aside to avoid him.  </p>
<p>Despite Jaskier's high hopes, Geralt did not contact him. After three days, Jaskier stopped by the cemetery. A sign on the gate bragged that the wraith had been removed and the cemetery was one again open to visit. Apart from that, there were no signs Geralt had been there.  </p>
<p>Disheartened, he concluded his meeting with Geralt had been a fluke. They would not meet again. He told himself he was fine with it. After all, he had plenty of friends, a career he loved, and a family. That was more than most people could claim. Still, he could not stop an unwelcome ache in his chest. He'd liked Geralt. Yes, his life was good, but it would be better with him in it.  </p>
<p>His supervisor advised him it was for the best. While Geralt was doubtlessly an invaluable source of information, he was also unpredictable and dangerous. Jaskier disagreed on the last point, at least for a given definition of dangerous. Geralt could undoubtedly kill him in the time it took him to blink. He was equally sure that Geralt would kill himself before raising a hand against him in violence.  </p>
<p>Regardless of Geralt's disappearance, he kept what he had learnt about Dandelion to himself. Geralt had been alive for centuries. If he wanted the world to know what he had confided in him, he had had ample time to tell them. At the same time, he redoubled his effort to update Dandelion's songs. The look on Geralt's face when he had seen the video for the first time was all the affirmation he needed to know he was doing a good job. He worked weekends and stayed late at the office. He would make sure the world appreciated Dandelion’s music again.</p>
<p>To save time on the way home, he took a shortcut near his apartment, shaving an entire block off his journey. It did take him down a rather shady looking alley, but it never occurred to him to worry. Oxenfurt was a safe city. Even in the worst parts of the city, crime rates were low, and the area his apartment in was favoured by university professors. He was more likely to get into an academic debate than get robbed. Or so he thought until a man stepped up behind him and pressed a knife against his throat. A curious stillness came over Jaskier. He was terrified, yes, but far too terrified to shake or scream or think of fighting. He scarcely dared to breathe.</p>
<p>"Do as I say, and you might get out of this alive," his attacker hissed in his ear. Jaskier whimpered.</p>
<p>"Let him go," another voice said.  The knife dropped immediately,  and Jaskier scrambled away. Geralt stood off to one side with a murderous expression, the tip of his sword just touching the skin of the man who had captured him.  </p>
<p>"This isn't your business, vatt'ghern. Leave me to my work."</p>
<p>Not a man, Jaskier realised with a jolt, an elf, and part of the Scoia’tael to boot. To this day, there remained a handful of elves who refused to assimilate. They saw every inch of human farmland as an act of violence against the land, and every human as a deadly threat to their very existence. Consequently, they resorted to violence. Every elf Jaskier had ever met condemned them, and he had assumed they lived in the wild, not the middle of Oxenfurt. But this elf did not look wild. He wore a t-shirt and tracksuit pants, and his hair was pulled back to reveal his sharp-pointed ears.  </p>
<p>"You picked the wrong target," Geralt growled.  </p>
<p>"I didn't choose."</p>
<p>"Then who sent you?"</p>
<p>The elf hesitated. His eyes flickered to Jaskier before settling back on Geralt.  </p>
<p>"Our leader instructed us to take the Pankratz children hostage."</p>
<p>"Priscilla," Jaskier breathed.  Geralt stared at the elf a moment longer. He shifted his sword to the side and surged forward, catching the elf in the gut with his fist. There was a brief scuffle. After only seconds, Geralt had the elf on the ground with the witcher seated on his back. He pulled rope from his pockets (something Jaskier resolved to ask him about later) and tied his hands behind his back.  </p>
<p>"Sorry about this, but I can't risk you causing problems until I've sorted this out," Geralt said, and hauled him to his feet. "Jaskier, call your sister."</p>
<p>He then marched into Jaskier's building and up the stairs, stopping outside the correct apartment and waiting for Jaskier to open the door.  </p>
<p>"You know where I live?"</p>
<p>"Mm. Not the time," Geralt said. He pushed the elf into the apartment and tied him to the couch.  </p>
<p>Jaskier, meanwhile, called Priscilla. She did not pick up. He tried again, then sent four texts and an email. On his third try, the call was picked up, and a male voice answered.  </p>
<p>"If you call again, we cut her throat."</p>
<p>Jaskier saw red. "Give her back, you bastard."</p>
<p>He did not notice Geralt entering his space. Nor was he prepared for him to pluck the phone out of his hands and take over the conversation. He put the phone on speaker so Jaskier could hear and said  </p>
<p>"I want to negotiate. My name is Geralt of Rivia, I'm a witcher."</p>
<p>"Gwynbleidd?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Geralt said, then frowned at the phone. "Iorveth? I thought you were in Vergen."</p>
<p>"I'm permitted to be in Vergen, that doesn’t mean I’m there. There's a difference. Why are you working for Pankratz, Gwynbleidd? Don't you know what he's like?"</p>
<p>"I'm not working for anyone. One of your elves tried to kidnap a friend of mine. I’d like to know why."</p>
<p>"You're friends with scum like that? Pankratz's new bill will target you as much as us. You know what d'hoine are like. "</p>
<p>Geralt glanced at Jaskier and sighed. He reached out and tapped the video icon on the phone, then turned it so both he and Jaskier were in the shot. There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end.  </p>
<p>"How?"</p>
<p>"I don't know."</p>
<p>"But he's a d'hoine, they - "</p>
<p>"I know,  Iorveth. I don't know how. But Jaskier is my friend, and you've got his sister."</p>
<p>There was a long pause on the other end. It was broken by a deluge of words in Elder that sounded suspiciously like curses, followed by the clear sounds of an argument. Through it all, Geralt's face was unreadable, so Jaskier watched their elven hostage. He flinched at certain words and cowered at others. The responses did not fill Jaskier with hope, because if the news frightened their hostage, it was likely bad news for them.  Eventually, the elf named Iorveth returned.</p>
<p>"Pankratz stole something from us. I want it back."</p>
<p>"You're going to need to be more specific."</p>
<p>The missing item was a marble statuette of an elven woman. To the untrained eye, it simply looked like an exquisite piece of art. To the Aen Siedhe, it meant far more. Many of the subtleties of elven culture passed Jaskier by, but even he knew the legends associated with the statue. The idea that it should be in human hands was barbaric. The knowledge that it was in his parents' dining room was enough to make him nauseous. Even worse, he thought, there was no chance it had been obtained without violence.</p>
<p>"I can help you."</p>
<p>It was only after silence fell that Jaskier raised realised he was the one who had spoken. He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin.  </p>
<p>"I'll help you get it. I promise. Just let my sister go."</p>
<p>"Jaskier, you --"</p>
<p>"I know where it is," Jaskier said, interrupting Geralt's protests. "I have a key to the house, and good reason to be there. I can get it."</p>
<p>There was another burst of discussion in Elder on the other end of the phone. Then:</p>
<p>"Gwynbleidd?"</p>
<p>"If he fails, I'll see it through."</p>
<p>Iorveth sighed. "And here I was hoping to make an example of Pankratz. Fine. We'll bring you the girl, and pick up our scout."</p>
<p>At that point, Geralt took over the conversation entirely. For his part, Jaskier crept away to the bathroom and sat on the toilet with the lid down, his knees pulled tight against his chest. The room seemed to spin. No matter how deeply he breathed, he could not seem to get enough air. Flashes of the conversation replayed in his mind. There were people who wanted him dead. People who had Priscilla, who he had promised to help. Strangest of all, people Geralt knew, perhaps even counted as friends. He could not wrap his head around it.  </p>
<p>For the first time, he thought about his family's fortune, and wondered how much blood had paid for his college tuition. He wondered if his non-human friends knew. Had they been dropping hints when they had talked to him about the humanity first bill? If they had, they'd passed him by. He paid no more interest to his father's job than he did to his mother's fervent wishes he settle down. But ignorance was no excuse.  If not for Geralt, that ignorance could have cost him his life. Make an example, he thought, and shivered.  </p>
<p>There was a knock on the bathroom door. When he didn't protest, the door opened. Geralt stood in the doorway, expression unreadable.  </p>
<p>"I really offered to rob my parents, didn't I?"</p>
<p>"In exchange for your sister's life. Don't underestimate Iorveth. If not for you, he would have killed her."</p>
<p>"Without you, you mean," Jaskier said. “If you hadn’t been there – how did you even find me?”  </p>
<p>Geralt crossed the tiny bathroom and crouched down in front of Jaskier. Jaskier wiped his eyes with his sleeves trying to hide his tears. After a moment of simply watching him, Geralt reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Tears welled again in Jaskier's eyes. He let out a loud sniffle, then fell to his knees and threw himself at Geralt, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in his shoulder. Jaskier's entire body shook as he sobbed. For several seconds, Geralt just sat there, frozen in place. When he moved, wrapped his arms around Jaskier and patted him on the back.  </p>
<p>"Priscilla is going to be fine," Geralt told him. "And you're safe. The Scoia’tael are many things, but they're honest. They'll uphold their end of the bargain."</p>
<p>"His mind changed when you turned on the video. Why?"</p>
<p>"Jaskier, once we've dealt with this, you have my word that I will answer all your questions. Right now, we need to focus."</p>
<p>Jaskier sniffled and lifted his head. The sight of Geralt's golden eyes soothed him more than he expected. He let out a slow, shuddering breath and wiped his face clean.  A curious sense of calm came over him. He had cried his grief out, and now exhaustion tugged on his mind and made him long for sleep. Instead, he started at Geralt.  </p>
<p>"I got snot on your jacket."</p>
<p>"I've been covered in worse," Geralt said, giving him a small smile. "Remind me to tell you about the selkiemore sometime.”</p>
<p>Jaskier let out a watery laugh. "If you say so."  </p>
<p>"I do. Ready?"</p>
<p>Geralt stood and offered a hand to Jaskier. Jaskier took a deep breath and took it, letting Geralt pull him to his feet. He trusted Geralt. If there was a way out of this situation, he would find it. For now, Jaskier had a task to do, and he would not let his own fear or exhaustion stop him from doing it. He would save his sister if it was the last thing he did.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In the Witcher, elves and dwarfs are oppressed and occasionally subject to massacres. A group of them formed a resistance which is as anti-human as it is pro-elf and pro-dwarf. A leader of this group, Iorveth, appears in The Witcher 2, and in general he considers killing humans a good thing. However, he seems to tolerate Dandelion. This is partly for Geralt's sake, and partly (depending on what choices you make) because Dandelion tries (and fails) to save some elven women from a fire. Here, he is continuing his habits of hating humans. </p>
<p>Thank you all for reading, and thank you for the comments on the set up so far!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mirror</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for the encouragement! Posting for this fic going forward will be slow, because I have a lot going on, but I have a lot written and I will finish it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>To Jaskier’s alarm, the elf had partially freed himself while they were in the bathroom. While his feet were still bound to the couch, his hands were free. Instead of trying to escape, he had produced a muesli bar from gods knew where and was preoccupied with eating. He nodded at the two of them.</p>
<p>"Caedmill, Jaskier of Oxenfurt. My apologies for our earlier meeting. Our reports did not mention your relationship with Gwynbleidd."</p>
<p>"I'm pretty sure kidnapping me would be rude even if I didn't know Geralt," Jaskier pointed out, which made the elf laugh.  </p>
<p>"No, then it would be war. Humans are a cancer on this world."</p>
<p>"Enough," Geralt interrupted. "Jaskier, can we get the statue tonight?"</p>
<p>"Right," Jaskier said, and squared his shoulders. "I can do this. I just need a reason to show up, or they'll be suspicious. Not that they’d guess what was going on, but..."</p>
<p>"Your father is in Novigrad on a business trip," the elf chimed in. A shudder went down Jaskier's spine at the reminder of how much the Scoia’tael knew about them, but he could not deny the information was useful. He may not get along well with his father, but his father had an uncanny knack for telling when someone was lying. His mother, on the other hand, believed every word he said, provided he let her use the wrong name. If she was the only one home, the task would be much easier.  </p>
<p>The plan was simple. Jaskier would call his mother in distress, snivelling about an imaginary breakup. Once he had secured an invitation, Geralt would drive him to his parents' house. Jaskier would spend the evening crying his eyes out over his broken heart, and once his mother was sufficiently drunk, he would sneak away and steal the statue. Once done, he would return to Geralt and make his escape.   </p>
<p>To maximise sympathy, he took the time to change out of his bright, tacky  shirt and into navy slacks and a white checked shirt buttoned up to the collar. He removed all his jewellery, save for the silver ring he had been found with, and re-styled his hair. When he stepped back out of the bedroom, both Geralt and their elven captive stated at him. Geralt looked almost pained, his eyes flicking from his neatly ironed slacks to his plain shirt. His upper lip curled slightly in disgust.  </p>
<p>"Even for a d'hoine, you look like a prick," the elf told from. Jaskier snorted.  </p>
<p>"I look like the son my parents wish they had. So, yes. A prick," Jaskier said.  He winked at Geralt and then pulled out his phone to start the ball rolling.  </p>
<p>His mother fell for the ruse hook, line, and sinker. He took his lute case to store the statue and set off. They left the elf on the couch with the TV remote and a bag of crisps and strict instructions not to  cause problems. Jaskier stuck close to Geralt as they left the apartment building, eyeing every stranger like a potential threat. His illusion of safety had been destroyed. If his life could be threatened in the alley behind his building, what other threats were lurking that he may have missed?</p>
<p>"This is me," Geralt said. Jaskier's eyes landed on a sleek black sports car,  modified to hell and back. Even Jaskier, who knew as much about cars as he did about quantum physics, could see it was a beautiful machine. Sounding almost reverential, he breathed,  </p>
<p>"Oh, she's beautiful."</p>
<p>"Hm. That's not what we usually hear," Geralt hummed, walking straight past the car to the beaten-up old van behind it. Jaskier made a strangled sound. If he had to guess, he would say the van had once been white -- but if Geralt had insisted it used to be eye-searing fluoro orange, he could not have argued. The entire body of the vehicle was covered in dents, scratches, and stains of every size and colour. Many of the scratches came in groups of parallel lines, suggesting they had been left by the claws of some vicious beast. The stains were mostly brown, but several had a reddish hue reminiscent of dried blood.  </p>
<p>When he finally looked at Geralt, his lips were curled into a tiny smirk, and his golden eyes danced with mischief.  </p>
<p>"Geralt," Jaskier said as gently as possible. "This thing is older than I am."</p>
<p>Geralt shrugged. "Modern cars break too easily. And the crumple like a piece of paper when you hit them."</p>
<p>Jaskier spluttered and thumped a hand against the van. "They crumple so that the car breaks instead of you!"</p>
<p>"Cars are expensive. Potion ingredients are cheap."</p>
<p>Still spluttered and protesting, Jaskier climbed into the passenger seat. They bickered for the entire drive. Geralt parked around the corner from Jaskier's parents' house, but before he let Jaskier leave, he pulled out his phone and passed it to Jaskier. He called his own phone, then saved Geralt's number under the wolf emoji as he passed Geralt's phone back.</p>
<p>"If anything goes wrong, call me. I'll wait here."</p>
<p>Jaskier nodded, squared his shoulders, and stepped out the van. A moment later, he remembered what his cover was, so he slumped his shoulders and looked as miserable as possible. By the time he reached the front door, he had nearly worked himself to tears. When he opened the door, his mother took one look at him and clutched her hands to her chest.</p>
<p>"Oh, Julian," she cooed, and pulled him into a hug. To his horror, genuine tears welled at the embrace. With Priscillla missing, it was hard not to weep, and he found himself clinging to her. She murmured reassuring words and ran her fingers through his hair, pausing only to complain about the length. It was so familiar it broke his heart. He had been on a roller-coaster of adrenaline, and now that he was somewhere safe, it all came crashing down. He clung to his mother as he wept, shaking and afraid.</p>
<p>They spent ten minutes in the corridor, Jaskier sobbing his heart out. When it became clear he was unlikely to stop on his own, she shepherded him through to the kitchen and made him some tea. Wave after wave of grief and anger buffeted him. It was only when he wrapped his fingers around the warm mug that he managed to quell them. The grief still came and went in waves, but it was smaller now, and he could keep himself under control.  </p>
<p>Once the sobbing was replaced by only light crying, his mother broke out the wine. He made up a story about his broken heart, telling her all about the girl he had allegedly been in love with. By the time he was done, they had polished off three bottles of sauvignon blanc, of which he drank less than a third of one bottle. Much of it was spent listening to her dreadful romance advice. Finally, after telling Jaskier he was running out of time to marry young, she declared she had had enough for the night.  </p>
<p>"Will you stay? Your room is the way you left it," she slurred.  </p>
<p>Jaskier shook his head. The room seemed to spin ever so slightly, but he had no trouble speaking clearly when he replied.  </p>
<p>"I just want my own bed. I'll see myself out."</p>
<p>He waited until his mother had gone through to her room, then walked into the dining room. The statue stood on display, exactly as he remembered it. He glanced around him. There were no security cameras in the house, and his mother could be heard throwing up in the bathroom. Satisfied he was alone, he slipped the statue into his lute case and left the house without even a glance back. After the comfort he had received, he could not stop a twinge of guilt at the idea of stealing from his mother, but he soothed his conscience by reminding himself he had a good motivation. His mother would have given him the statue herself if it would buy Priscilla’s safety. This way he could save his sister and spare his mother’s nerves.</p>
<p>He hummed an eerie melody as he walked up to Geralt's van. It was not a tune he had heard before, but there was something familiar about it nonetheless. It haunted him day and night, and he had yet to figure out what song he shoult put it in. But in the meantime, it seemed like a good song to hum at night.</p>
<p>When he reached the van, he looked in through the window and jumped back with a squeal. Two golden eyes gleamed in the dark. Terrified, Jaskier took a step back as his heart rate sky-rocketed. A beat later, and all he felt was shame and guilt, and he cringed as he rubbed the back of his neck. The gleaming eyes belonged to Geralt.</p>
<p>"Sorry," he said. "I forgot."</p>
<p>"It's fine," Geralt said. Jaskier took that as an invitation to get in, but as he did so, he replied,  </p>
<p>"It's really not, though. I like you, and you're doing all this to help me, and even if that weren't the case, I'd have no reason to treat you as a threat. I owe you an apology."</p>
<p>"Hmm."</p>
<p>"I mean it, Geralt," Jaskier said, staring at him.  "I won't make the same mistake twice."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't blame you. Most humans are frightened of me."</p>
<p>Jaskier sat bolt upright in his seat. "Then most humans are idiots. I'm not scared of you. I didn't realise it was you, because I'm not used to all the, you know, glowing. Now that I know it's you, it's fine.  They're actually quite pretty, you know. I never understood that one line about golden eyes in Dandelion's journal, but in retrospect, he was on to something."</p>
<p>Geralt had been calm throughout most of his speech but at the end, he made a strangled sound.  </p>
<p>"You read his journal?"</p>
<p>"Everyone did," Jaskier said, suddenly sheepish. "I mean, I've only read copies, but I've seen the original. It's in the university museum."</p>
<p>There was a long silence from Geralt.  "What else do they have?"</p>
<p>"A few notebooks, his lute, some clothes, a knife. Everything that was in his grave. Probably more stuff I'm forgetting."</p>
<p>Without a word,  Geralt pulled over and put on the handbrake. He rested his forehead against the wheel and exhaled slowly.  </p>
<p>"His lute."</p>
<p>The words were soft and broken. The sound of the pain in Geralt's voice wrenched at Jaskier's chest, and he reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. Before he could think of what to say, Geralt continued,</p>
<p>"I buried him myself. I gathered up the pieces and built the cairn with my bare hands and left him with his lute. It was as much a part of him as the rest."</p>
<p>He inhaled, his shoulders rising, then let out a slow, shuddering exhale.  </p>
<p>"And they took it. They took him, and lost him, and put the lute in a fucking museum," Geralt said, the last word coming out in a feral snarl. "As if it ever belonged to them. I shouldn't have left it. I should've asked Yen to curse the tomb to hell and back. I should’ve taken him <i>home.</i>"</p>
<p>"I'm sorry," Jaskier said, knowing the words were not enough. Geralt's shoulders slumped.  </p>
<p>"It's not your fault."</p>
<p>They sat in silence for several minutes before Geralt straightened up and opened his eyes. Despite the breakdown he had just gone through, there was no trace of tears in his eyes. With a deep sigh, he restarted the car and began to drive. As they passed beneath flickering streetlights,  Jaskier wondered at what he had seen. No one was sure how old Dandelion had been when he died, but judging from his appearance in paintings, he could not have been much more than thirty, and a young-looking thirty at that, giving him scarcely a decade with his husband. And yet here Geralt was, still mourning his loss centuries later. Jaskier's heart broke for him. What wouldn't he give to ease Geralt's pain? He had no doubt that Dandelion would have wanted Geralt to move on and be happy. He was equally certain that Geralt would not listen to such advice. If he had mourned this long, he would mourn his whole life.  </p>
<p>The thought of Geralt's heartbreak kept Jaskier distracted from his own problems until they reached his apartment. His heart rate picked back up as they drew closer. Sweat dripped down his spine, and after a moment, he realized he had reached out and grabbed Geralt's forearm. Cringing with embarrassment, he forced his hand into his lap and mumbled an apology while staringat his hands. Once he had parked, Geralt reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.  </p>
<p>"Whatever happens, I'll keep you safe."</p>
<p>Jaskier looked up through his eyelashes. Golden eyes stared back at him, and this time, the sight soothed him. He exhaled slowly. He could do this.  </p>
<p>In Jaskier's apartment, they found not one but four elves. They stood around the living area, debating something in Elder. When Jaskier and Geralt entered, one of their number stepped forward. An old red bandanna covered a quarter of his face, including one eye, but his hair had been carefully styled to show his pointed ears. He greeted Geralt with a nod and a handshake.  The handshake then progressed to a one-armed hug, and he thumped Geralt on the back.  </p>
<p>"It's been a long time, Gwynbleidd. Too long."</p>
<p>"I'd say the same, but I only seem to run into you when there's trouble," Geralt said. For all the words were a complaint, there was affection in his voice as plain as day. When they separated, the elf turned and gestured to the couch. Jaskier's eyes widened at the sight of Priscilla, still as the grave. Heedless of the danger around him, he bolted forward and fell to his knees beside her. It was only when he lifted one shaking hand to her face that he saw she was still breathing.  </p>
<p>"We gave the d'hoine a sleeping draught. She should sleep through the night. She doesn't know who took her, and I'd like it to stay that way."</p>
<p>Jaskier nodded frantically. The last thing he was going to do was start a fight. "Whatever you want."</p>
<p>The elf nodded, then turned to Geralt. After a few minutes of quiet conversation,  the elves bid farewell to Geralt and filed out of the apartment. If not for Priscilla and a pile of newly-washed dishes, there would have been no sign they had every been there.</p>
<p>With Geralt's help, he moved Priscilla from the couch to the bed. There he took off her shoes, tucked a pillow under her head and brought the blankets up over her. Geralt watched silent from the doorway, expressionless.  </p>
<p>"Will you stay the night? I'm afraid I've only got the one bed, but -"</p>
<p>"If you want me to stay, I'll stay. Just give me a few minutes to fetch my stuff from the van."</p>
<p>While Geralt retrieved his things, Jaskier changed into a pair of pyjama pants and an old tshirt. He brushed his teeth and rumpled his hair, not content until there was no sign left of the man who had visited his mother.  </p>
<p>Geralt returned with a backpack slung over one shoulder. Once satisfied his guest was comfortable, Jaskier settled down on the bed opposite his sister. Sharing was not something they commonly did, but it was not new to them and he felt confident she wouldn't mind.  </p>
<p>That night, he dreamed of fire. Urgency pushed him through the fire and flame, chasing the sound of screams until his clothes caught alight. He fled and plunged into deep water. Strong hands pulled him out of the water, coughing violently, and onto a boat. The elf in the red bandana, Iorveth, watched over him, showing something bordering on concern, until he looked up.</p>
<p>“He’s all yours, Gwynbleidd.”</p>
<p>Jaskier twisted, but before he could see Geralt, he woke to the sound of his name being called. He groaned, grumbling out a plea for a few more minutes rest, and rolled over. He heard his name again, and someone began to shake his shoulder. He sat up with a groan. After a few seconds spent yawning and trying to wake properly, he looked up and found Priscilla watching him with wide eyes. The shadows under her eyes were dark and purple, but she was awake and alive. A smile started to spread across his face and he flopped back against the bed. He had succeeded; his sister was safe.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier, there's someone in the living room, " she whispered, her eyes wide with terror. Jaskier felt himself yawn.  </p>
<p>"Oh, that's just Geralt. I'll introduce you."</p>
<p>Priscilla shook her head frantically. "He's not one of your friends, I saw, he's not human."</p>
<p>"He's a witcher," Jaskier nodded, "and a friend. Come on, let me introduce you."</p>
<p>After a moment of hesitation, Priscilla nodded. He led the way into the living area to find Geralt sitting at the kitchen table. His swords were nowhere to be seen, and he seemed to shrink in on himself and soften the frown on his face. He was, Jaskier realised, trying to make himself look as unthreatening as possible. The attempt was failing miserably, but it still made something warm glow in Jaskier’s chest.  </p>
<p>"Good morning, Geralt. Now that she's awake, I'd like to introduce my sister, Priscilla. Priscilla, this is Geralt. He's a friend of mine."</p>
<p>"I'm glad to see you recovered," Geralt said, unusually soft and quiet. "Your brother was worried about you."</p>
<p>"What happened?" Priscilla asked. She stood behind Jaskier, as if he was some kind of protection against a witcher. As if Geralt was somehow a threat, which Jaskier thought was an even more ludicrous idea.   </p>
<p>"You were kidnapped by --"</p>
<p>"By vampires!" Jaskier interrupted, bursting in with the first idea that came to mind. His heart pounded in his chest. All he could see was Iorveth's face, warning him to keep the involvement of the Scoia’tael a secret. All he could hear was the implicit "or else". Priscilla gasped in fear.  </p>
<p>"That's why I called Geralt instead of the police. Only a witcher could handle them. And handle them he did!"</p>
<p>"But why me? Why us?" Priscilla wanted to know.  </p>
<p>"Some vampires develop a preference for certain kinds of blood. You're both young, and from an old and wealthy family. Or it could be genetic. I didn't ask," Geralt said. He sounded exhausted, and when Jaskier made eye contact, he grimaced.  </p>
<p>"The important thing is that they're dead, and you're safe," Jaskier said, turning and putting his hands on her shoulders. Priscilla stared at him with wide eyes and took a seat at the table, staring blankly at the wall. Worry churned in Jaskier's gut. He spent the morning flitting around the kitchen, cooking her favourite foods to tempt her appetite and plying her with coffee. After a couple of hours, she looked up at him and asked,</p>
<p>"Why do I feel so numb?"</p>
<p>To Jaskier's surprise, it was Geralt who had an answer.  </p>
<p>"Humans react to traumatic experiences in different ways. This is one of them. You need to give yourself time."</p>
<p>Priscilla considered that. "I think I'd like to go home now."</p>
<p>That was the opposite of what Jaskier wanted, but after what she had been through, he was not going to argue. He called her a cab and extracted a promise from her that she would call at least once before going to bed.  </p>
<p>Once she had left, Jaskier collapsed onto the sofa and stared at the ceiling. He let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes. He could feel Geralt's eyes on him, but he could not bring himself to care. They sat in silence for several minutes before Jaskier said,  </p>
<p>"Coffee. I need coffee. And sugar, gods, as much sugar as they can cram in there. Then, I have questions."</p>
<p>Geralt agreed. An hour later, they sat on opposite sides of Jaskier's tiny dining table. Once again,  Jaskier had ordered them both sugary, cream-topped monstrosities. He pretended not to notice the tiny smile on Geralt's face when he took a tiny sip. Instead, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand. Something strange was going on, something that involved Jaskier and Geralt and probably others. He was determined to get to the bottom of it. The difficult part was deciding where to start. After a few minutes of his thoughts turning on circles, he reached out and plucked out one of the questions at random.  </p>
<p>"Your elf friend only agreed to negotiate after you put the video on. Why?"</p>
<p>"You got a hand mirror?"</p>
<p>Baffled, Jaskier replied that he did. He went to fetch it, while Geralt pulled out a laptop. It was much more modern than his mobile phone, but it was still clunky and built to withstand impact. When Jaskier returned with the mirror, he propped it up on against a mug so he could see his own reflection. Once Geralt was satisfied with the set up, he turned his screen around. Jaskier stared. He looked at the screen, then his reflection, then back at the screen. His expression pinched as he tried to understand what he was seeing. He pointed at the screen.  </p>
<p>"That's me," he said. He looked up to find two yellow eyes staring at him. "Geralt, why do you have a painting of me on your laptop? And why - that hat, it's ridiculous, I've never worn anything like that."</p>
<p>There was no question that the painting showed Jaskier. The resemblance was too good to be denied. He danced in the ruins of an ancient castle, dressed in brightly coloured silks and wearing a hat with a large white feather. The lute in his hands was easily the most splendid Jaskier had ever seen, but the man in the painting did not seem to care about that. He was staring at someone behind the easel. It was plainly someone, not something, because the warmth on his face indicated nothing less than complete,  rapturous love. Just looking at it made Jaskier's chest ache.</p>
<p>"Dandelion did. He always did love the latest trends. He used to bemoan the fact that he couldn't talk me into the same bright colours."</p>
<p>Jaskier opened his mouth and closed it several times. He then closed it and stared at the painting some more, before looking up with wide eyes.  </p>
<p>"When we met, you said -- you thought I was him?"</p>
<p>Geralt inclined his head, avoiding Jaskier's gaze. "It's not just looks. You sound like him, you act like him. You even smell like him."</p>
<p>"Oh, Geralt," Jaskier breathed. He could not even begin to imagine the pain Geralt had gone through. And when he had shown him the video of him performing – Geralt had been entranced. Later, it would occur to him to celebrate the accuracy of his performance. Now, though, all he could think of was Geralt. He reached out for him, then pulled back, unsure if his touch was welcome. The motion caught Geralt's attention, and he looked up. The raw grief in his expression punched a small, wounded sound out of Jaskier.  </p>
<p>"I thought I was losing my mind. But I'm not. I followed you for weeks, trying to figure out what you were, but when I saw the elf threaten you, I realised it doesn't matter. I couldn't let you get hurt."</p>
<p>“You were stalking me?” Jaskier asked. Geralt grimaced, avoiding eye contact entirely. The reaction soothed Jaskier somewhat. If nothing else, he felt confident Geralt knew better than to stalk him again.</p>
<p>“Thought you might have been a wraith of some kind, or under some kind of spell,” Geralt admitted sheepishly. “I wasn’t even sure if anyone else saw you like this, or if you looked different to everyone. Wouldn’t be the first time someone used that kind of illusion against me. I had to make sure you weren’t a threat.”</p>
<p>“Until your elven friend made the same mistake as you.”</p>
<p>“We’re lucky he did,” Geralt admitted with a sigh. “Iorveth hates humans, but he learnt to tolerate Dandelion, and he felt like he owed him. Dandelion risked his life to try and save some elven women when everyone else did nothing. It didn’t work, but it was enough to earn him some respect.”</p>
<p>Jaskier leaned back in his chair. Geralt still refused to meet his eyes, staring somewhere above Jaskier’s left shoulder. At first glance, his expression looked neutral, but upon inspection, Jaskier was startled by how much he could see. There was shame, broadcast in the unhappy set of his brow, and guilt. But most of all, there was grief, every time he risked a glance at Jaskier’s face.  </p>
<p>"When you look at me, you see him," Jaskier said. Geralt frowned, framing his chin with his fingers, and hummed. Now that he had something to focus on, some of the pain in his expression eased.  </p>
<p>"Not exactly. At least, not anymore. He never drank… what did you call this?"</p>
<p>"A frappucino."</p>
<p>"Right. There are bigger things, though. He never would have stayed at the university for so long, he wanted to see the world. He wasn't close with his family, not like you and Priscilla. He was just… different, in a way I can’t define,” Geralt said. He then crossed his arms over his chest and looked Jaskier up and down, smug. “And he wouldn't dream of wearing that shirt with those pants."</p>
<p>"You," Jaskier spluttered. He planted one elbow firmly on the table and jabbed a finger in Geralt's direction. He gestured so vigorously that he knocked the mirror to the ground where it shattered, but he ignored it. "You, my dear friend, are wearing armor, something that's been out of style for several centuries. You smell like you have yet to discover the wonders of a shower, and your hairstyle is at least three years out of date. You do not get to sit in my kitchen and critique my fashion sense."</p>
<p>For a second, Geralt only stared at him. Then he made a curious rumbling sound while smiling a smile that showed off his teeth. After a moment, Jaskier realised the sound was laughter, or something like it. The sound only lasted a few seconds, and afterwards Geralt looked almost as startled as Jaskier, as if he had forgotten laughter was something he could do. In that moment, Jaskier resolved that whatever happened, he would make Geralt laugh every day they were together. It was not a pretty laugh, but in its awkwardness there was a new kind of beauty.  </p>
<p>"Oh, I hope you let me introduce you to Yen. It's been years since I've been insulted like that."</p>
<p>"Who's Yen?"</p>
<p>"Yennefer of Vengerburg. She's an old friend. She'll show up sooner or later now that I'm back from Ofier."</p>
<p>"So you're going to stick around?" Jaskier asked, unable to keep the hope from his voice. Geralt nodded.  </p>
<p>"Gotta figure out what happened to Dandelion, and there are plenty of contacts in the area. And then there's you."</p>
<p>"Me?"</p>
<p>Geralt looked away. His hand clenched into a fist, only for him to release it finger by finger.  </p>
<p>"If you wanted, we could be friends, if we tried."</p>
<p>Listening to Geralt's tone, one would be forgiven for thinking he was talking about having teeth pulled without anaesthetic. His eyes flicked to Jaskier and then away. Jaskier considered the behaviour in the context of what he knew of Geralt, both from experience and Dandelion's writing. The conclusion was obvious. Jaskier smiled.  </p>
<p>"If? We're already friends, Geralt. And I have no intention to let you disappear again. I'm afraid you're stuck with me."</p>
<p>Geralt's head shot up. As he stared at Jaskier, his pupils dilated, leaving them almost round. "Yeah?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. And frankly, Geralt, you need me. You know nothing of the pleasures of the modern world. It's like you don't even know the meaning of the word hedonism."</p>
<p>Jaskier prattled on for some time, listing all the things he wanted to show Geralt. The entire time, Geralt listened attentively, as if every word he said was fascinating. After a few minutes, he leaned back in his chair and relaxed. It was the closest Jaskier had yet seen to Geralt letting his guard down, and he found he liked it very much. When he ran out of steam, they sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes. There remained one question that would not leave Jaskier alone. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and asked it.  </p>
<p>"You say I'm indistinguishable from Dandelion. How is that possible?"</p>
<p>There was a long pause before Geralt answered. He put his coffee down and looked him right in the eye.  </p>
<p>"I don't know. Could be magic, or you could be some kind of mimic. Or maybe he was never human, and it's not a coincidence that you appeared around the time he vanished."</p>
<p>Jaskier gaped at him. "But I'm human!"</p>
<p>"Maybe," Geralt said. "But if so, it's a hell of a coincidence. You appeared at the right time, and you know things."</p>
<p>"I'm a scholar, I study him, of course I know things."</p>
<p>"You remember his songs," Geralt said, and for the first time his words sounded like an accusation. Jaskier opened and closed his mouth several times before arguing.</p>
<p>"I reconstruct his songs."</p>
<p>"Get the lute," Geralt demanded, and Jaskier obeyed without question. "I can't sing, but I'm going to do my best, and you're going to follow along."</p>
<p>Jaskier considered arguing, but curiosity won out. Something told him that Geralt singing was a rare and special treat, even if he turned out to sound like a dying cat. He swung his lute into place and took a moment to tune it before looking to Geralt and nodding. The song started as a low hum. The sound sent a shiver down Jaskier's spine as the hum filled his mind. By the time Geralt began to sing, he had already begun to pluck out the first note of every bar.   </p>
<p>It was painfully clear that Geralt was not a trained singer. He did not know when to breathe or how to transition smoothly between notes, and his discomfort was palpable. But his low rumbling baritone was pleasant enough, and he knew the song well. Jaskier could have listened for hours. Instead, he joined in,  first on the lute, then on the chorus. His fingers danced across the lute. The lyrics took a little more thought, but when he furrowed his brow he could see the rhyming scheme and story. It was a cheerful little song, telling the story of a mischievous little godling who played all kinds of pranks on a small village. Geralt dropped out after the second chorus, but Jaskier scarcely even noticed. He was lost in the music. He sung his way through five verses before the song came to a close.  </p>
<p>It was only when the last note rung out that he realised he had been singing alone. He frowned. When he looked at Geralt  he found Geralt staring back, his arms crossed over his chest. From the bitter-sweet smile on his face, anyone would think Jaskier had sung a song about death or heartbreak. </p>
<p>"You didn't reconstruct that one."</p>
<p>"You don't know that," Jaskier said defensively, although he was right. "Maybe I heard it before."  </p>
<p>Geralt shook his head. "Dandelion wrote that for my daughter. I can name every person who ever heard it, and he never wrote it down. It was too dangerous."</p>
<p>"But how?" Jaskier asked Then, knowing he wouldn't like the answer, he tried to distract Geralt. "You had a daughter?"</p>
<p>To his surprise, the distraction worked. The bittersweet grief disappeared from Geralt's smile, and he took back his computer. After a couple of minutes, he shuffled around to Jaskier's side with the laptop, which now displayed a photograph of Geralt and a young woman with white hair. A beaming grin took up her entire face. They stood on the top of a mountain, and miles of jungle stretched out on the plains below.  </p>
<p>"This is Ciri. She's my daughter. We spent the last couple of years in Ofier together."</p>
<p>Before Jaskier could ask questions, he moved on to the next photo, and then the next. Ciri posing beside a famous statue in Nilfgaard. Ciri killing a wyvern. Ciri on Geralt's shoulders, whacking a volleyball over a net. Ciri with a cat. The entire time, Geralt practically radiated pride. As the show wore on,  the images became older and older, eventually transitioning to paintings. The transition raised a new question.</p>
<p>"I thought you said Dandelion wrote songs for her."</p>
<p>"She adored him," Geralt confirmed, his voice warm and filled with more affection than Jaskier had thought possible. "Probably because he let her get away with murder."</p>
<p>"Your daughter is immortal," Jaskier concluded. At this point, he wasn't sure why he was surprised. The impossible seemed to follow in Geralt's footseps.</p>
<p>"Almost. It's some kind of magic. She explained it to me once, but it went over my head. She always was smarter than me."</p>
<p>Jaskier stared at the picture some more. There was something familiar about her face. If he squinted, the shape of her jawline reminded him of something that he could not quite place. Frustrated, he tilted his head to see if a new angle helped.  </p>
<p>"There's something familiar about her."</p>
<p>"Hmm. Could be Dandelion again, but you're a historian. You might have seen some of these before," Geralt admitted. He refused to elaborate. To test the theory, Geralt pulled up photos of other people in his life. There was a photo of Geralt and two other men with yellow cat eyes, but neither of them looked remotely familiar to Jaskier. One looked near identical to Geralt, except for his black hair and a hideous scar that stretched from his mouth to his ear. The other was younger with short-cropped black hair and a scowl on his face.  </p>
<p>"They look nice," Jaskier volunteered and Geralt snorted.  </p>
<p>"Yeah, you don't remember shit."</p>
<p>"But they're clearly your friends," Jaskier protested.  </p>
<p>"They're my brothers. I could understand someone calling Eskel nice, but Lambert? Not even his husband would go that far."</p>
<p>At Jaskier's request, he shared a couple of stories about his brothers. While Geralt was not the world's most gifted storyteller, he did have some idea of pacing, as well as a wry sense of humour that had Jaskier giggling uncontrollably. It was not until late in the morning that they separated. Before they left, Geralt made a point of exchanging numbers with Jaskier, and promised to keep in contact. Jaskier would not let Geralt slip through his fingers again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Normal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for commenting and leaving kudos! I meant to delay this chapter, but in the end, I was too impatient. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bit by bit, Priscilla recovered. There had been no physical injury, but the emotional trauma of the kidnapping had cut deep. To avoid questions, she resolved to keep the whole thing a secret. The alternative – a lengthy investigation, medical appointments, and uncomfortable conversations – was too intolerable. But secrecy had one major drawback. While hiding the kidnapping certainly avoided many uncomfortable situations, it did decimate the number of people she could lean on for support. All she had was Jaskier. He did whatever he could to help her, whether it was accompanying her to the supermarket or spending the night at her college dorm watching terrible movies. </p>
<p>By silent agreement, neither of them suggested staying at his place. His apartment held too many dark memories for both of them, and neither of them would sleep well there. Even left to his own devices, Jaskier found himself jumping at shadows. He started at sudden noises and started taking the long way home, avoiding the alley-way shortcut. He considered purchasing some kind of weapon, but dismissed the idea. Anyone or anything that was likely to attack him would be able to easily overpower or outmaneuver him.</p>
<p>At least, unlike most people, he could call a witcher his friend. Geralt kept his promise to keep in contact. Two days after the incident, he received a text message from Geralt:</p>
<p>🐺&gt;&gt;&gt; Killed some ghouls. How's your sister?</p>
<p>&gt;&gt;&gt; Recovering. Are you okay?</p>
<p>🐺&gt;&gt;&gt; Why wouldn't I be?</p>
<p>Of course, Jaskier thought, and rolled his eyes. Killing necrophages was probably Geralt's idea of fun, or at least normal. He wondered if Geralt even realized facing the undead would be traumatic for most people, let alone fighting them.  </p>
<p>The next day, Jaskier started the conversation by complaining about his office mate. While Geralt was not exactly a chatty texter, he did send sympathetic, one word responses. Jaskier's favourite responses were the old-fashioned emojis such as ":(" and ":|" that tended to pop up whenever he complained. There was something about the mental image of Geralt carefully picking out each symbol that warmed his heart. Geralt may not be good at this kind of communication, but he was trying.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before long, Geralt became one of Jaskier’s favourite people to talk to, above even his family. While Priscilla supported his music, his parents redoubled their efforts to push him towards a more respectable career. It did not matter that he had been wildly successful in his chosen field. As far as his parents were concerned, a mediocre lawyer was better than a successful musician. His father tried endlessly to get him to take an interest in politics, while his mother introduced him to dozens of rich young women searching for husbands. The jobs he ignored; the women he flirted with, but had zero interest in pursuing a relationship with any of them. The very idea of a relationship gave him hives. He could think of little worse than settling down for life and starting a family, following the same trajectory as his parents. He'd end up just like his mother, downing three bottles of wine a day just to pass the time. No, Jaskier wanted a life of academia and adventure. He kept his contact with his parents to just one meal together a fortnight, if that.  </p>
<p>"You're not living in one of your ballads. You need to keep your feet on the ground," his father told him at one such meal. Jaskier pulled a face. Dandelion's work had more to do with reality than his father's view of the world. He had walked among all walks of life from the halls of kings to the hide-aways of the Scoia’tael. His father had only dealt in office-buildings and political campaigns.  Of the two of them, Dandelion had understood the world best. </p>
<p>Given their dislike of all things related to Dandelion, Jaskier ought to have been prepared for their reaction to Geralt. They had been debating the merits of a picnic by the riverside when Jaskier said without thinking,  </p>
<p>"I wouldn't. Geralt says that spot is riddled with drowners."</p>
<p>"Oh, but it was your favourite place as a little boy! It might help your remember," his mother said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and kissing his forehead. Across the table, Priscilla pulled a face at him.  Jaskier grimaced back as his father asked,</p>
<p>"Who's Geralt?"</p>
<p>"A witcher," Jaskier said,  unable to keep from boasting. "The witcher,  really, the White Wolf. Geralt of Rivia."</p>
<p>"Julian," his mother said gently, and he drained his wine glass to keep from commenting at the wrong name,  "don't you think you're spending a little too much time with your books? You're talking about him like a person, sweetheart, not a character from a song."</p>
<p>"He is a person," Jaskier insisted. His parents exchanged a look. Sensing several psychiatrist appointments in his future, he held up his hands and tacked on, "Priscilla met him!"</p>
<p>Priscilla was called upon to verify that yes, she had indeed met a legendary figure in Jaskier's apartment and no,  Jaskier wasn't hallucinating. Geralt was real. Her aid staved off psychiatric appointments, but something in Jaskier's gut told him the matter was not settled. His parents very much disapproved of him spending time with someone like Geralt, and when they disapproved, they made their opinions plain.  This was undoubtedly another thing to add to the list of ways he was a disappointment. Jaskier was not sure he cared. Perhaps it made him selfish, but he could not bring himself to cut off pieces of himself to fit their idea of a perfect son. If they could not meet him halfway and use his name, then he would not even pretend to be what they wanted.  </p>
<p>After two weeks of exchanging messages, Jaskier convinced Geralt to meet for coffee. They talked all afternoon, and the next week Geralt showed up unannounced at Jaskier's office. He stood in the doorway and leaned against the wall, listening to Jaskier play. When he finished his song,  Geralt reached into a pouch handing from his belt and pulled out a set of long, brownish-red strings.  </p>
<p>"Got you these. Dandelion always swore by chort gut, and I still remember how to treat them.  Should last a month at least. If you like them, I can get more."</p>
<p>"You got me strings," Jaskier breathed, staring at Geralt as if he had just offered him a fistful of diamonds. He picked up the strings with care bordering in reverence. For a few moments he simply stood there, staring at them. He put the strings down on his desk, then turned and pulled Geralt into a tight hug. His arms slid around Geralt's waist and he rested his chin on Geralt's shoulder. After a short pause, Geralt hugged him so tightly his feet lifted from the floor. When they separated, he looked away, but there was a small smile on his face.  </p>
<p>"The metal ones sound like shit. You need a lute that doesn’t sound like a dying cat."</p>
<p>"What's wrong with my lute?" Jaskier asked. If anyone else had insulted his instrument, he would have taken offence, but Geralt had him curious. There were a dozen complaints a musician might make, but Geralt was no musician. And yet when he listed his complaints, many of them were the same Jaskier had. He did not have the language to describe what he meant, but his hearing was sharp enough to pick out all the little flaws in the instrument, and he knew what a good lute was meant to sound like. When Jaskier agreed with him, he looked thoughtful.  </p>
<p>"Maybe you should get a new one."</p>
<p>"I've thought about it, but new lutes are rare enough to be custom made these days, and that's expensive."</p>
<p>"Hmm," Geralt said, staring at the lute.  He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "I might know where to get my hands on an elven lute."</p>
<p>"As long as it doesn't get me kidnapped again," Jaskier snorted. Geralt shook his head.  </p>
<p>"No. And the Scoia’tael should leave you alone now, except maybe when you perform. Iorveth's hoping you'll do the Battle for Vergen next. Asked me to pass on the request."</p>
<p>"I haven't heard that one."</p>
<p>"Mm. Pretty sure it got banned in most of the Northern Realms. Catchy tune, though. "</p>
<p>"Do you remember it?" Jaskier asked urgently, reaching for his notebook. Geralt sighed. He eyed the notebook suspiciously, but when he looked back at Jaskier, his will crumbled. He pulled up a seat and began to talk. He began by outlining the context in which the ballad had been written, and why, and who had been the target audience. He then moved on to the start of the song, tapping out a beat and humming a few bars. The chorus came next, and then a dozen different verses that could be rotated out depending on the audience. Through it all, Jaskier scribbled frantically. This was the kind of opportunity most scholars could only dream of. There were only a handful of people left old enough to have heard Dandelion play, and most of them were not inclined to help historians. </p>
<p>They were interrupted around lunch, when Jaskier's office mate came in. He looked at the two disdain.  </p>
<p>"I didn't realise you had guests."</p>
<p>A vicious smile spread over Jaskier's face. He was going to enjoy this. </p>
<p>"Markus, this is Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, Markus here is a proponent of the Cidaran Conspiracy."</p>
<p>Geralt furrowed his brow. "Am I supposed to know what that is?"<br/>
"We recognise that the works commonly attributed to the so-called bard Dandelion are far more complex and sophisticated than a travelling troubadour could manage. The works arts undoubtedly plagiarized from a contemporary of his, one Valdo Marx,  who -"</p>
<p>Throughout Markus' speech, Geralt's expression had grown stormier the second. At the word "plagiarism", his mouth curled into a feral snarl, and Jaskier could have sworn he heard low, rumbling growl. At the name Valdo Marx, he stood up. Across the room,  Markus trailed off, belatedly realising he may have picked the wrong audience for his conspiracy. Geralt crossed the room in three strides and loomed over him.  </p>
<p>"If I have to listen to so much as one more word of your slander, I'll rip your tongue out. Valdo Marx was a pompous little prick who couldn't compose so much as a limerick without copying from his betters. I've met necrophages with a better grasp of poetry."</p>
<p>Markus whimpered. His eyes were wide with fear.  To Jaskier's astonishment, the sour tang of urine filled the air, and a dark patch appeared on the front of his trousers. A vicious little smirk spread over Geralt's face.  </p>
<p>"Funny. Valdo did the same thing when I met him, except he did it in front of the full Temerian court. No wonder you look up to him. A coward and a liar is something a spineless, witless fool like yourself could aspire to."</p>
<p>Markus bolted from the office.  </p>
<p>"We're going to get in so much trouble for that," Jaskier said, but he could not stop staring at Geralt in wonder. "That was brilliant."</p>
<p>"I should've let Dandelion strangle him when he had the chance," Geralt muttered.  </p>
<p>A wailing alarm interrupted them,  warning that there was an armed intruder on the loose. Jaskier and Geralt exchanged a look.  </p>
<p>"Coffee?"</p>
<p>"Coffee."</p>
<p>The two of them bolted for the fire escape. Jaskier laughed as they emerged into the bright summer sun. Running from security with Geralt was turning into a habit. It was likely a bad habit, but Jaskier found he did not care one bit. There was a spring in his step as he led Geralt to the cafe, gushing the entire time about how expertly he had put Markus in his place. He found himself pausing and emphasising certain lines, and by the time they reached the cafe, he had the first draft of a song about it. Once again, he ordered them both the same coffee, and they spent the afternoon together.  </p>
<p>From then on, there was a marked increase in how much contact he had with Geralt. They spoke every day and saw each other multiple times a week. It felt as if they had known each other for years. Geralt filled a hole in Jaskier's life he hadn't known existed.  He was happier than he could ever remember being and music flowed every time he sat to compose, so liberally he could scarcely keep up with it. He wrote day and night. Some of the songs were Dandelion's, bubbling up within him as if he knew them already. Others were his own, both modern and ancient in style. Those were more work, but it was work he relished, taking a few chords and an emotion and turning it into music that could inspire whatever mood he chose. There was just one tune he could not complete. A lilting, peculiar little melody haunted him. It broke every rule of good composition, mixing different tempos and keys in a way that ought to have been jarring. Instead, it was eerily beautiful. But no matter how many hours Jaskier spent working with it, he could not work out what kind of song it belonged to.  </p>
<p>"You'll figure it out," Geralt told him whenever he complained about it, which was often. Although he was little technical help, Geralt was an excellent cheerleader when it came to Jaskier's work. He had unshakeable faith in Jaskier's abilities. Even when he shared his worst ideas with him, Geralt's assessment of his abilities and intelligence didn't falter. Jaskier was not sure what he had done to earn such respect, but he was not about to complain.  </p>
<p>As they grew closer, Geralt started to appear without warning. One day Jaskier returned home to find him sitting on his doorstep; another found him in Jaskier's office, playing with a dangerously sharp knife and staring at the books lining Jaskier's shelves. None of this perturbed him. It was hardly the strangest thing about Geralt, and he did not view Geralt’s presence in his space as an intrusion. If anything, he missed him when he was absent, as if it were more natural for him to be there than not. Jaskier did not even realise how close they had grown until he was woken one night by the sound of someone pounding on his front door. He lay still in bed, debating what to do. If it was a threat, the best thing was to block the door and call for help. But if he sought help over a drunken neighbour trying the wrong door, it would be terribly embarrasing.  </p>
<p>Before he could decide what to do, he heard a feral growl.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier, open the fucking door."</p>
<p>"Geralt!"  </p>
<p>He scrambled to the front door. Before he even opened it, a foul stench crept into his nose, making him gag. When he opened it, he found Geralt swaying on the spot. A revolting dark sludge covered him from head to toe, and blood stained the lower half of his body. He held one hand against his belly, but it was not large enough to cover the wound there. The blood drained from Jaskier’s face. He’d never seen so much blood in one place, and if the injury had ruptured the intestine, things would be bad.</p>
<p>"I'll call an ambulance," Jaskier said. Before he could take a single step,  Geralt's hand shot out and grasped his wrist.  </p>
<p>"No doctors. Just need potions."</p>
<p>"Potions," Jaskier echoed, and shook his head. "Come in, you idiot, at least sit down. Potions, he says, like it's fucking 1142 and people still don't know to wash their hands."</p>
<p>"Witcher potions work," Geralt said. He staggered in after Jaskier and took a seat at the kitchen table. He dropped a bag on the ground and gestured to it.  </p>
<p>"This has everything I need. Once the wound closes, I'll get out of your hair."</p>
<p>"Oh no, you're not going anywhere except hospital."</p>
<p>"Not going to hospital. If you're going to try to make me, I'll just go back to the van."</p>
<p>They stared at each other, both refusing to blink. Finally, Jaskier held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Fine. No doctors, but you're not leaving until you're better. Deal?"</p>
<p>"Fine. Go back to bed."</p>
<p>"Out of the question," Jaskier said. He picked up Geralt's bag and put it on the table "Now. What do you need?"</p>
<p>"Round base, narrow neck, red wax. Open it and pass it to me."</p>
<p>He did as asked, locating the necessary potion quickly. His next request was a green bottle with a black seal which Jaskier was strictly forbidden from opening. He could do nothing but watch as Geralt tipped the vial over his wounds. Any sludge that had gotten into the wound evaporated as soon as the liquid touched it,  leaving a foul smell in the air. Geralt grit his teeth as the liquid seeped into his wounds and stung his flesh.  </p>
<p>"Shouldn't we clean it out first? You don't want it to get infected."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Anything that could survive that isn't going to be killed by modern disinfectants," Geralt said. "Do you mind if I sleep on your couch? Can't promise I'll be quiet. The last potion I need causes hallucinations."</p>
<p>"Out of the question," Jaskier said, shaking his head and gesturing emphatically. "I'll take the couch. You're hurt, you take the bed."</p>
<p>"Fine," Geralt said, and drank the last potion with a shudder. Even the empty bottle smelled noxious, like a mixture of paint stripper and rotting food.</p>
<p>"You mentioned hallucinations. Is there anything I can do to help?" Jaskier said. He held out a hand to help Geralt to his feet. Geralt stared at it for a few seconds before grunting and pushing up under his own power. He staggered towards the bedroom, one shaking step after another. He paused in the doorway, taking a moment to lean against the wall.  </p>
<p>"Dandelion... used to sing."</p>
<p>"Do you want me to sing?" Jaskier asked.  </p>
<p>It was the wrong question. Geralt turned away with a snarl and muttered that he didn't want or need anyone or anything. Unsure of how to fix things, Jaskier stayed in the living room. After a few minutes, he curled up on the couch and tried to sleep. He had no blankets, and he had nothing on but a pair of boxers which served him for pyjamas, leaving him shivering despite the warm night air. And it did not help that he was worried about Geralt. Witcher or not, the wound in his gut was deep and in a dangerous location. There was every chance Jaskier would wake up to a corpse in his bed.  </p>
<p>Despite his worries, Jaskier slept in short bursts for the better part of an hour before the screaming started. Jaskier bolted to the bedroom. Geralt writhed on the bed,  lashing out at the space around him with powerful strikes. When one of the strikes hit Jaskier's beside lamp, the lamp flew across the room and slammed into the mirror hanging on the wall, shattering it into dozens of pieces. Even one of those blows would be enough to knock Jaskier out cold. For a beat, Jaskier hesitated. Then, in the dim light filtering in from streetlights outside, he saw the state of Geralt's bandage. It had soaked through, and more blood was trickling out and smearing over his belly. Without thinking, Jaskier rushed in. He ducked a punch aimed somewhere over his head and spread his weight out across his chest. He called Geralt's name, and the thrashing stopped.  </p>
<p>He looked up to find two eyes gleaming in the dark. Only a tiny ring of gold was visible. Most of the eye was taken up by his pupil, which was huge and round like cat hunting in the dark.  </p>
<p>"Dandelion," he rumbled. The relief in his voice tore Jaskier's heart in two. Before he could respond, Geralt wrapped an arm around Jaskier's waist, pinning him in place. His other arm found Jaskier's hand and lifted it to his mouth, smiling. The brush of Geralt's lips against his fingers sent shivers down Jaskier's spine, and it took all his willpower to remind himself that this was not for him. </p>
<p>"Bad dreams," Geralt mumbled. He dragged Jaskier closer and buried his face in the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply, and every muscle in his body seemed to relax. His lips brushed against Jaskier’s neck, and a shiver ran down his spine.</p>
<p>"Sing for me?"</p>
<p>How could he say no? The request wasn't truly for him, but he would have to be a heartless brute to deny such a simple request. He sang. He started with Dandelion's songs, picking the ones which were slow enough to pass for a lullaby. Bit by bit, Geralt relaxed. When his grip loosened enough for Jaskier to move, he pushed himself up to a seated position and leaned back against the headboard. Geralt stared at him. With a smile, Jaskier patted the pillow beside him.</p>
<p>"You need to sleep, Geralt," he said.</p>
<p>Instead of taking the hint and using the pillow, Geralt put his head in Jaskier’s lap and stared up at him adoringly. He still flinched at shadows and growled at threats that weren't there, but every time, he turned his eyes to Jaskier and stared at him until he calmed himself. Every now and then, he reached up to touch Jaskier’s cheek or for his hand.  </p>
<p>Five songs in, Geralt began to doze, then finally fell asleep. Jaskier did not stop singing. He fell asleep singing, the words becoming a tuneless mumble before ceasing altogether. He woke several times throughout the night. Each time, both he and Geralt had moved into some new position. Each time, he woke to Geralt's arms around him, holding him in place as surely as steel handcuffs would. Despite his restricted movement, he did not feel alarmed or even uncomfortable. It might have been pleasant, if not for the foul-smelling sludge that coated Geralt (and now the sheets and Jaskier). Each time, he fell back asleep quickly. Most nights he struggled to sleep, haunted by dreams of Priscilla's kidnapping, but with Geralt there, he found himself unafraid. </p>
<p>When he woke the final time, he and Geralt were on opposite sides of the bed. Guilt wormed its way into his mind. There had been little he could do to escape Geralt's clutches, but he ought to have tried harder. He sat up and stretched. The bed shifted under his weight, and Geralt pushed himself upright with a groan. He looked at Jaskier from across the bed. His expression was nigh unreadable, but his eyes at least, had returned to normal. His pupils were thin slits in the morning sunlight.  </p>
<p>"I should have warned you to stay away. I apologise. I hope I didn't hurt you, " Geralt said. His voice sounded even rougher than usual, and his mouth twisted into a small frown.  </p>
<p>"You didn't hurt me, " Jaskier assured him quickly. "Don't you remember?"</p>
<p>Geralt shook his head. "I still apologise. I can't imagine you crawled into bed with me of your own free will."</p>
<p>If Jaskier told him the truth, Geralt would undoubtedly be embarrassed. Worse, he may hold Jaskier responsible for not trying harder to convince him he was not his long-dead husband. That was not something Jaskier wanted to deal with, so he skirted around the truth as he explained how he had tried to calm Geralt, and how Geralt had simply refused to let him leave after. There was suspicion in Geralt's eyes, but he did not ask questions. Instead, he just hummed.</p>
<p>"If you say so. Regardless, you should bathe before you get sick."</p>
<p>"Going to try and convince me your skin is toxic?" Jaskier asked, rolling his eyes. One corner of Geralt's mouth twisted up, and he crossed his arms across his chest.  </p>
<p>"No. But untreated sewage is."</p>
<p>Jaskier froze in place. He made a small noise in the back of his throat. He looked down at himself, his head moving in small, mechanical little jolts. Brown, black, and red smears covered his body. He looked back at Geralt.  </p>
<p>"We slept in shit," he said,  his voice cracking on the last word. Geralt nodded. With a squeal of disgust, Jaskier bolted for the bathroom. His first stop was the toilet, where he brought up everything left in his stomach. The sour taste of vomit lingered in his mouth. He ripped his boxers off and shoved them in the bathroom bin. He then proceeded to spend nearly a full hour in the shower. He washed himself three times over, scrubbing at his skin and hair with the lavender soap until he smelled off nothing but flowers. He then doused himself in cologne and stepped back into the bedroom with a towel around his waist. The bed had been stripped bare and the soiled sheets stacked in a corner. Geralt himself was nowhere to be seen.</p>
<p>Rather than getting dressed, Jaskier followed his nose and found Geralt in the kitchen. He had found a packet of bacon in the back of the fridge and sat at the kitchen table, eating strip after strip raw. When Jaskier stepped out he paused, one strip halfway to his mouth. He lowered it to the table slowly,  hunching his shoulders and avoiding his eyes.  Jaskier looked at him in disgust.  </p>
<p>"Did you go into my kitchen covered in shit?" He squawked. He stepped to one side and pointed to the bathroom. "Shower. Now."</p>
<p>"I -"</p>
<p>"That was not a request. Now, Geralt."</p>
<p>Looking distinctly sheepish, Geralt  swallowed the bacon in his mouth, and slunk off to the shower. Once he heard the door shut, Jaskier darted back into the bedroom to dress. He then began the arduous task of cleaning the apartment. The sheets went straight in the bin, along with anything Geralt had touched in the kitchen. The bacon, he discovered, was two weeks past its use-by date, and he shook his head as he threw it out. Honestly, he thought, it was like Geralt wanted to get food poisoning. He used his phone to order food, then began wiping down all the surfaces with bleach. He was considering how to tackle the mattress when he heard his name from the bathroom.  </p>
<p>"Can I borrow some clothes? I left my spare pants in the van."</p>
<p>"Hang on," Jaskier said. He found an old pair of tracksuit pants and a plain black tshirt, both of which he set by the bathroom door. He then returned to the kitchen and prepared to check on the wound. He put Geralt's potion bag on the table. The bag was followed by bandages, scissors, and a bottle of antiseptic.  </p>
<p>"Mm, thanks for the shower. It's been a while," Geralt said, stepping into the living room. Water dripped from his hair onto his bare chest. Jaskier stared. There were more scars on Geralt's chest than unmarred skin, ranging from sets of lines to pocked skin to tooth marks. They broke up the smooth expanse of his muscled chest, giving Jaskier's eyes somewhere to rest as he leered. His face flushed. Gods help him, Geralt looked like something out of a fantasy. He even smelled good now the filth had been cleaned from his skin.  </p>
<p>The sight of the wound jolted Jaskier from his fantasies. The wound had already begun to close, looking weeks old rather than hours. The effort of showering had damaged the scab in some places, causing blood to trickle down Geralt's skin,  but to Jaskier's relief, the wound looked clean. He pointed to the chair, and Geralt sat. He seemed pleased at the sight of the potions. Once again, he poured one vial over his wounds and drained another. The third, which had induced the nightmares, he left. With Jaskier's help, he bandaged up the wound around his belly and pulled on the tshirt.  </p>
<p>"Thank you. Not everyone would have helped me."</p>
<p>"I'd rather have you here ruining my sheets than have you bleeding out on an alley somewhere," Jaskier told him. "You're wreck. What happened?"</p>
<p>"Zeugal," Geralt said.  </p>
<p>"That is not helpful," Jaskier said, wagging a finger under Geralt's nose. "If you want to share the food I've ordered, you're going to have to do better than that."</p>
<p>Geralt sighed. A zeugal, he explained, was a particularly vicious monster which dwelled in the sewers. They fed on human refuse and garbage. One was dangerous to deal with, as it buried in the muck and attacked with long, vicious tentacles, but it rarely stopped with one. Left to its own devices, it could reproduce alone. One zeugal led to an infestation, and that was what had happened to Geralt. The city had commissioned him to take down one of the beasts, something that did not come cheaply. There had instead been three. The first he had expected; the second he had been prepared for, and handled with little difficulty. The third caught him unawares, spearing him in the gut as he drove his sword into the maw of the second. It had taken all his will to walk out of the sewer and to his van. To Jaskier's horror, his primary urge in seeking him out had been to ask to use his shower.</p>
<p>"How long has it been since you had a shower?"</p>
<p>Geralt furrowed his brow. After a few seconds, Jaskier made a disgusted sound and told him,  </p>
<p>"If you have to think that hard, it's been too long. Don't you have a shower at your place?"</p>
<p>The furrow on Geralt's brow deepened. "How would I fit a shower in the van?"   </p>
<p>Jaskier lowered his hands to the table. He inhaled exhaled slowly. When he spoke, his voice was perfectly level.  </p>
<p>"Geralt. Do you mean to tell me you're living out of your van?"</p>
<p>"Of course I am," Geralt said. Jaskier considered screaming, but settled for leaning forward and snarling at him.  </p>
<p>"You idiot! You can't just live in a van! You need a home!"</p>
<p>In defiance of all logical response,  Geralt leaned back and held up his hands in a placating gesture.  </p>
<p>"Witchers don't stay in one place long. There are some places that are different, but it's been a long time since there was anything tying me to Oxenfurt."</p>
<p>"You could move in with me."</p>
<p>The words were out of Jaskier's mouth before he had a chance to think them through. Shockingly he did not regret them. Geralt raised an eyebrow, so Jaskier justified his argument. At very least, Geralt ought to visit daily to use the shower. At that point, Jaskier might as well give him the key, and if here's there that often, he may as well indulge in sleeping indoors. He would be able to save money by cooking instead of buying pre-made food, and he would get to see Jaskier every day. The plan was flawless.  </p>
<p>"I've been thinking of moving anyway," Jaskier admitted. "The mold in the bathroom is on the verge of evolving into something new. And this place hasn't felt right since our encounter with your elven friends."</p>
<p>'Hadn't felt right' was an understatement. The apartment no longer felt like a home to Jaskier. He could not spend more than an hour or two there without remembering Priscilla's kidnapping, and the Scoia'tael, and all the terror that came with that. Finding a new apartment would free him from those memories. Geralt was simply a convenient excuse.</p>
<p>They argued about it for nearly an hour, but by the time their food arrived, Geralt had agreed to the idea.  Geralt's pupils dilated as Jaskier set the food on the table. He leaned in a little and sniffed the air. Hiding a grin behind one hand, Jaskier told him to eat as much a he pleased. After a moment of hesitation, Geralt took a plate. He took a bit of everything, piling the food several inches high on his plate. Jaskier was much more restrained, taking a pastry and an orange.  </p>
<p>As they ate, they discussed what they were looking for in a house. Geralt had only two requests: that it be somewhere quiet, and that it had a garden. When Jaskier asked what else he wanted, he thought for a second before settling on,  </p>
<p>"Indoor plumbing."</p>
<p>Jaskier choked on his drink. "Plumbing?"</p>
<p>"Mm," Geralt said. "If that's not too much to ask."</p>
<p>When Jaskier managed to stop spluttering, he noticed the smirk on his face. His golden eyes danced with amusement, and when Jaskier pointed at him accusingly, he started to laugh. It was a dry, awkward little sound that cut off quickly, and one of the most beautiful sounds Jaskier had ever heard. He exaggerated his outrage further to try and get a repeat performance. Geralt did not laugh again, but the wide smile on his face softened his features.</p>
<p>It was unfair, Jaskier thought, that someone as old as him was so attractive. He was not conventionally handsome, but then,  Jaskier had never cared one whit for convention. The individual features of Geralt's face fit, even if each taken alone was unusual. And the things that others would claim were repulsive, like his white hair or his scars or his golden, catlike eyes, all of them Jaskier found irresistible. He wanted to run his fingers through Geralt's hair. Would it be greasy or soft and silken to touch? And what about his skin? Each scar would change the texture of his skin, and Jaskier wanted to know how. He wanted to know everything there was to know about Geralt – and if that took a lifetime, he would consider it a lifetime well spent.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you're enjoying this, please leave a comment to let me know what you like! And if you're on tumblr, you can follow and talk to me at gammagayburst.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Hunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for all your lovely comments! I've had a hell of a week, so reading all of your comments has been a much-needed boost.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They spent the next two weeks house-hunting. While Geralt was easy to please, Jaskier was not. The first place they looked at was too small, and the second had terrible acoustics. The third had suspicous red-brown stains on the carpet, and the fourth had actual, literal holes in the walls. To Jaskier's horror, the fifth had an outhouse at the back of the garden and no toilet indoors. While Jaskier spluttered and stared in horror, Geralt shrugged and said to the agent,</p><p> </p><p>"Sorry. Plumbing was on the list."</p><p> </p><p>At that point, Jaskier took himself outside in hysterics. The dry, completely flat delivery of Geralt's joke made him want to either kiss the man or punch him. Neither would end well.  </p><p> </p><p>The agent for the next house warned them out was a little odd, and they exchanged looks. Against his better judgement, Jaskier asked,  </p><p> </p><p>"There's plumbing?"</p><p> </p><p>There was indeed plumbing, although the bathroom itself was tiled in blue and decorated with pictures of a forest in winter. The bathroom included a gigantic tub, which Geralt stared at with open desire.  </p><p> </p><p>The kitchen was decorated in bright pink, but it was well equipped and thrice the size of what Jaskier was used to. The kitchen flowed into the living room, the only normal looking room in the house. The master bedroom had a deep ochre wall on one side and opened onto the garden.   </p><p> </p><p>"What about the second bedroom?"</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, well. The family that lived here last was a little odd," the agent said, and led them upstairs. The family had had a single teenage son who had been obsessed with rock music, to the point that his parents had soundproofed his room. Jaskier could not imagine a better feature. The black walls left a lot to be desired, but they would be free to paint them whatever colour they liked. The windows were equipped with heavy blackout curtains, and there was an abundance of storage space. It was perfect.</p><p> </p><p>While Jaskier explored the room, Geralt returned downstairs with the agent. By the time he drifted downstairs, he sat at the kitchen table with a pen, scowling at a piece of paper in front of him. When Jaskier came down, he looked up.  </p><p> </p><p>"I might need a little help. I don't have a rental history," he said. Jaskier peered over his shoulder. A few boxes on a lease form had been filled out, but most of it was filled with little question marks. Geralt's name was there, and he had ticked "widowed" for his marital status, but his date of birth was missing, along with most other details. Jaskier tapped the box for date of birth curiously.  </p><p> </p><p>"You don't know?"</p><p> </p><p>Geralt shook his head. "Vesemir might know when I finished the first Trial. I could use that."</p><p> </p><p>"What's on your ID?"</p><p> </p><p>Geralt pulled out a card from his wallet. The front included a photo and brief description of Geralt, as well as a phone number to call for verification. The title at the top of the card read "Imperial Agent", and the insignia of Nilfgaard was embossed on both sides. It did not include a date of birth. Jaskier raised his eyebrows.  </p><p> </p><p>"You're working for Nilfgaard?"</p><p> </p><p>The question made Geralt grimace. "Fuck no. The Empress has a soft spot for me, that’s all."</p><p> </p><p>"Geralt, the Empress is a myth," Jaskier said gently. "I mean, an immortal leader to appears once every few decades and never ages? Come on. Whoever Empress Cirilla was, she died a long time ago."</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm," Geralt said. He glanced at the agent and refused to say anything more on the issue. Instead, he slid the form across the table to Jaskier. Taking the hint, Jaskier filled in the form without difficulty and handed it to the agent.  </p><p> </p><p>That same day, he handed in his notice to his current landlord. He told his parents the next day, when visiting them for dinner as they often required. They were thrilled to hear he was leaving his current apartment, unsure at the idea of moving in with a friend, and horrified at the news that friend was Geralt. Both his parents insisted Geralt was dangerous. They did everything they could to persuade Jaskier to spend less time with him, from insulting him to warning him against witchers to bribing him. To say none of it worked was an understatement. With every snide little comment and open insult, Jaskier found himself trusting his parents less and less. He had long known they were flawed people, but he had not expected them to try to ruin one of his friendships. It was disheartening. He tried to discuss it with Priscilla, wondering if they had tried the same with her, but the conversation did not go the way Jaskier had planned.  </p><p> </p><p>"They're just over protective," Priscilla told him.  </p><p> </p><p>"They're insulting my friend," Jaskier said with a frown. "They're trying to get me to stop associating with Geralt just because he's different."</p><p> </p><p>"He’s not human. There’s nothing wrong with that, but they’re never going to move past it. And you don’t even notice, do you?”</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier thought of Geralt sitting in his kitchen, eating raw, expired bacon and covered in sewage.  </p><p> </p><p>"I'd noticed.So what? He’s human in the ways that matter."</p><p> </p><p>There was a horrible silence as Priscilla considered the question.  </p><p> </p><p>"I suppose not. He's odd, but I like him."</p><p> </p><p>It was as much as an endorsement as he was going to get, so he took it.  </p><p> </p><p>A week after signing the new lease, Jaskier realised he had made a slight miscalculation. His old lease ended two weeks before his new lease started. He would have to spend two weeks with a friend, or worse, move back in with his parents. Neither option sounded appealing. He hated the idea of relying on a friend's charity, but the idea of spending two weeks with his parents was even worse. He would have to watch what he said and what he did. He would need to change how he dressed and respond to a name that he despised. The very idea made him dread even visiting, and try as he might, he could not think of a way out of it. </p><p> </p><p>When he confided his dilemma in Geralt, he said,  </p><p> </p><p>"You could take a holiday."</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier snorted. "Geralt, I know my parents are rich, but I'm a grad student. I can't afford two weeks in a hotel."</p><p> </p><p>"Wasn't suggesting that. I've got a place in Toussaint, just north of Beauclair. If I drive through the night, we could be there in two days. "</p><p> </p><p>"You're serious?" Jaskier asked hopefully. When Geralt nodded, he beamed. "Can we go to a winery?"</p><p> </p><p>"I think I can arrange that," Geralt said. There was a crooked smile on his lips, and Jaskier could not help but think he was laughing at him.  </p><p> </p><p>Both he and Geralt had work to do before they left,  so they separated for the evening. Jaskier arranged for his furniture to be moved to his parents house and told them about his plans. He did not mention Geralt's involvement. He did not intend then to find out Geralt was involved at all. It felt strange to be hiding things from his parents in his early twenties, but he knew without a doubt how they would react. He would spare them all the argument.  </p><p> </p><p>His plan backfired spectacularly. His mother, in a peculiar fit of helpfulness, insisted on driving him to the airport. Jaskier tried every trick he knew to distract her, but none of it worked. He could not deflect her attentions onto his sister, nor convince her the idea was too much effort, nor come up with a convincing lie. He settled on a half-truth. He told them a friend was driving, and was fully prepared to lie about Geralt's identity, but his father interrupted.  </p><p> </p><p>"It's that witcher you've been associating with, isn't it?"</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier opened and closed his mouth. Before he could say anything, his father frowned.  </p><p> </p><p>"Son, I don't know what that thing wants with you, but I won't stand for it. If you set one foot out that door, Julian, I'll --"</p><p> </p><p>Something inside him snapped.</p><p> </p><p>"Jaskier."</p><p> </p><p>"What?"</p><p> </p><p>"My name is Jaskier," he snarled, and without another word, he grabbed his bag and stormed from the room. The door slammed shut behind him. Shouts of "Julian" (and one desperate "Jaskier") followed him, but he did not look back.  </p><p> </p><p>Jaskier plodded down the night-time streets with his bag slung over one shoulder. He would spend the night in his office, he decided, and set off with Geralt tomorrow. He sent Geralt a quick text updating him on his plans. Less than a minute later, his phone rang.  </p><p> </p><p>"Geralt?"</p><p> </p><p>"You're walking alone. At night. Carrying a heavy bag," Geralt said.  When Jaskier confirmed that yes, that was indeed what he was doing, Geralt cursed.  </p><p> </p><p>"Where are you?"</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier gave him his location. The line went dead immediately after, and Jaskier realised Geralt had hung up on him. He put his phone in his pocket with a huff and kept walking.  </p><p> </p><p>He did not get far. When he turned the corner, he noticed a large shadow blotting out the light from a streetlight. He looked up. An enormous, human-sized bat hung from the streetlight. Jaskier froze on the spot. The beast let out a terrible screech, so loud and high pitched that Jaskier flinched away and covered his ears with his hands. It unfolded its large, leathery wings and fell to the ground. When it drew itself up to its full height, it set its red eyes on Jaskier, staring at him with open hunger.  As Jaskier stared back, taking in the white fur around its neck and the great leathery wings ending in razor-sharp claws, Jaskier realised he was going to die. The thought did not frighten him, but it did frustrate him. He had so much left to do. There was so much music left unwritten, so much of the world he hadn't seen. And Geralt -- gods, poor Geralt. He wouldn't cope. He'd blame himself and carry the guilt in his heart for decades. Jaskier was no Dandelion, but Geralt still hadn’t moved on from him after centuries. How long would he let himself suffer over Jaskier?</p><p> </p><p>A whistling sound zipped past Jaskier's ear. A moment later, the bat let out a shriek and staggered back into the light of the streetlight. An arrow was buried in its chest. The air filled with the whistle of dozens of arrows in flight. Every one of them hit its mark, and the bat dropped to the ground. A puddle of blood began to pool beneath it. As Jaskier stared, frozen in place, an elf emerged from the shadows, dressed in grey with smudges of black and dark green. She advanced on the beast, a sword gleaming in her hand. Once satisfied it was dead, she turned to Jaskier.  </p><p> </p><p>"You are Jaskier?"</p><p> </p><p>He nodded. A tiny expression that was almost a smile settled on her face.  </p><p> </p><p>"Caedmill, Jaskier. Does Gwynbleidd know you're out alone at night?"</p><p> </p><p>As strange as the situation was,  Jaskier bristled at the implication. "Geralt's not my babysitter."</p><p> </p><p>The elf laughed at him. "No, I do not think that is the relationship he would want, either. Where are you going?"</p><p> </p><p>His ears burning, Jaskier admitted, "Geralt is coming to pick me up."</p><p> </p><p>Snickering, the elf leaned against the lamppost. "Then I will wait here."</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier risked a step forward. "Not that I'm not grateful for the rescue, but were you following me?"</p><p> </p><p>"There is another d'hoine we are hunting. You are lucky we were here," she said.  </p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Jaskier said. A moment later, he put the words ‘we’ and ‘hunting' together, and he said 'oh' again, this time in a very different tone. </p><p> </p><p>"I don't suppose I could convince you to write a strongly worded letter instead?"</p><p> </p><p>"We spared your family at your request. We will not spare your entire species."</p><p> </p><p>"Right. Well. I had to ask," Jaskier said, and looked around anxiously. How many elves were watching him? If he ran, would they shoot him,  too? He risked a surreptitious glance at the giant bat. The poor thing was riddled with arrows, resembling nothing so much as an overgrown pin cushion. Better stay put, Jaskier decided. All he had to do was keep himself alive until Geralt arrived. If the elves had saved his life, they were likely not after his blood, provided he did not offend them.</p><p> </p><p>After a long silence, the elf asked him a question about what it was like living as a human in a large city. Jaskier answered cautiously and risked a return question about their living situation. Before he knew what was happening, they were swapping stories about how they lived. Jaskier found herself fascinated. For all she looked to be in her early twenties, his companion was over a century old. She had been born into an entirely differelednt world. She spoke with passion about the forest where she had grown up and the life she had lead there. It was not an idyllic lifestyle, nor a peaceful one, but it had been hers. She had been in her early sixties when she had been recruited into the Scoia’tael, driven there by the never-ending destruction of the forest by humans searching for a bit more farmland.  </p><p> </p><p>Fifteen minutes later, Geralt's van screeched around the corner and skidded to a halt beside them. Jaskier beamed at him. His companion inclined her head, greeting him in the Elder and gesturing to Jaskier. Geralt replied in the same language, but his attention was on the giant bat. There was a strained expression on his face when he turned to Jaskier.  </p><p> </p><p>"I left you alone for six hours."</p><p> </p><p>"Most people start with 'hello'," Jaskier said, fully aware Geralt was not listening.  </p><p> </p><p>"Six hours, Jaskier, and you managed to find an ekimma."</p><p> </p><p>"He's lucky it was so sluggish," his companion chimed in. "If it had attacked him immediately, we might not have been fast enough."</p><p> </p><p>"Traitor," Jaskier hissed.  </p><p> </p><p>The elf smiled at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement. She was the only one happy with the situation. Geralt let out a low growl. He stalked over to Jaskier and grabbed him by the shoulders, steering him in the direction of the van. Halfway there, he paused and asked the elf about the vampire. Her answers made him frown. He thanked her for them regardless, and for Jaskier's safety. She bid farewell to both of them and melted away into the shadows.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, that was absolutely terrifying," he said in a cheerful tone, climbing into the car. Geralt grunted. He paused with his hand on the ignition and asked,  </p><p> </p><p>"It really just stood there?"</p><p> </p><p>"Is that important?"</p><p> </p><p>"Could be you just got lucky," Geralt said, and started the engine. "It's not unheard of. Young vampires make stupid mistakes."</p><p> </p><p>"But?" Jaskier asked. There was something here he was missing. But Geralt did not elaborate, simply humming and glancing at Jaskier out the corner of his eye.</p><p> </p><p>"You should know better than to go out alone at night," he said. "If not for the Scoia’tael, you could be dead."</p><p> </p><p>There was an underlying tension in his voice, and Jaskier frowned.</p><p> </p><p>"Well, I'm not dead, at least not last time I checked. I'm also very much not in the mood to be told what to do, so if you could keep your self-righteous lecture to yourself, that would be very much appreciated."</p><p> </p><p>An awkward silence descended upon them. Jaskier let out a huff and pulled his knees up to his chest, balancing his feet on the edge of his seat. He let his head rest back and closed his eyes. He didn't want to fight. But he was so, so tired, and he felt as if he had no kindness or patience left in him. The fight with his parents alone would have put him in a foul mood. When that was combined with the vampire and the Scoia’tael, he had been pushed to the brink. Tears started to well in his eyes. After a few seconds, Geralt asked,  </p><p> </p><p>"If I acknowledge you're crying, will that make things worse?"</p><p> </p><p>The words opened the floodgates. Tears spilled freely from Jaskier's eyes. Without a word, Geralt pulled over and left the vehicle. Jaskier could hear him in the back, but he did not expect him to shift up behind the seat. When Jaskier opened his eyes, it was to Geralt leaning over his shoulder and offering a handkerchief.  </p><p> </p><p>"It's clean."</p><p> </p><p>Not knowing what else to do, Jaskier took it, dabbing at the corners of his eyes as he mumbled a quiet thanks. Geralt's hand hovered over his shoulder. After several seconds he lowered it to rest lightly on Jaskier's shoulder. His entire arm was tense, as if he expected to have to pull his hand away at any moment. More tears came as another flood of emotion overtook him, this time mixed with a swell of affection for Geralt. He looked lost. He plainly wanted to comfort Jaskier, but he did not seem to know where or how to begin. Before he could panic and remove his hand, Jaskier reached up and covered it with his own.  </p><p> </p><p>"Sorry," he sniffed. "It's been a long night."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you want to talk about it?" Geralt asked uncertainly. Jaskier took a moment to consider the question. Instead of answering, he asked a question of his own.  </p><p> </p><p>"You're so sure I've got some connection to Dandelion. But what if I don't? What if it really is just a coincidence?"</p><p> </p><p>He watched Geralt's face as he spoke, desperate for a sign of what he thought. Geralt's brow furrowed in confusion.  </p><p> </p><p>"I don't understand the question."</p><p> </p><p>"We're friends," Jaskier said, tentatively. His spirits lifted a little when Geralt nodded immediately. Gathering his courage, he asked,  </p><p> </p><p>"Would we still be friends?"</p><p> </p><p>"Why wouldn't we?" Geralt asked, looking just as baffled as before. A lump caught in Jaskier's throat. Without thinking, he undid his seatbelt and scrambled over the back of his seat. He was too large to fit easily, and in the end, he tumbled over and landed on the floor with a thud. He pulled himself up and pulled Geralt into a hug, tucking his face against his chest.  </p><p> </p><p>"Jaskier?" Geralt asked, and Jaskier hugged him tighter. At least one person knew his actual name. Geralt shifted his weight so he could sit on the ground, pulling Jaskier with him. Jaskier crawled into his lap and clung to him. The smell of old sweat and leather ought to have disgusted him,  but he found it just as comforting as the warmth of Geralt's arms around him. If he bent his neck and pressed his ear to Geralt's chest, he could hear a low purr alongside his slow heartbeat. The sound soothed him further. After a few minutes, he yawned widely and admitted,  </p><p> </p><p>"I'm tired."</p><p> </p><p>"Do you want the bed, or the front seat?"</p><p> </p><p>Jaskier considered. The bed would be more comfortable, but had no seatbelt. "Front seat. Let's get out of here."</p><p> </p><p>He followed Geralt out the back of the van and settled into his seat. He put the seat as flat as possible and closed his eyes. When he heard the car start, he mumbled a quiet thanks to Geralt and fell asleep.  </p><p> </p><p>When Jaskier opened his eyes, it was to a highway stretching away to the horizon. Wherever they were, the city had given way to farmland. Rolling green fields occupied the land as far as the eye could see. For a few minutes, he simply watched the land slip by, half awake, half dozing.</p><p> </p><p>"Horses," he mumbled as they passed one field. From the driver's seat, he heard a quiet chuckle.</p><p> </p><p>"Good morning."</p><p> </p><p>A smile spread across Jaskier's face. "Morning,  Geralt."</p><p> </p><p>"You talk in your sleep," Geralt told him. The hum of amusement in his voice made Jaskier sit up straight.  He rubbed his eyes and squinted at Geralt.  He had not taken his eyes off the road, but when Jaskier looked at him, he glanced sideways with a tiny smile.  </p><p> </p><p>"You said something about dice poker?"</p><p> </p><p>"It is my favourite way to gamble," Jaskier said with a yawn. "The secret is weighted dice."</p><p> </p><p>"Hmm," Geralt said, sounding far more suspicious than he had any right to. "I'll stick to Gwent."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, we have to play when we get there. You, me, some wine - I can almost picture it."</p><p> </p><p>He could picture it perfectly, in fact. He could see the splotches of pink and orange as the sun set. The air smelled of woodsmoke and the fresh, green smell of nature; and, closer, leather and sweat. Geralt's arm was warm and heavy around his shoulder, and the taste of wine lingered on his lips. Jaskier blinked. He was in the van, driving to Toussaint. Both Geralt's hands were on the wheel, and the only taste in his mouth was the sour tang of morning breath. He pulled a face.  </p><p> </p><p>"Can we stop for breakfast soon? And I need to brush my teeth."</p><p> </p><p>"Yeah, we can stop," Geralt said.  </p><p> </p><p>They pulled over at the next roadside services. Jaskier made a beeline for the bathroom, while Geralt poked around the terrible little food court. By the time Jaskier emerged, he had acquired a massive plate of breakfast and a seat by the window. Jaskier ordered his own meal and dropped into the seat opposite him.</p><p> </p><p>"I feel much more human now I've brushed my teeth. How's the food?"</p><p> </p><p>Geralt considered the question for a moment. "Hot."</p><p> </p><p>When Jaskier started his own meal, he understood immediately. 'Hot' was about the only positive thing one could say about the food. It was also oddly sweet, as if they'd thought adding sugar to the powdered eggs might make them taste more like food and less like rubber. If that was their goal, Jaskier thought as he chewed, it hadn't worked. When he complained that the food surely violated Redanian health and safety laws, Geralt snorted.</p><p> </p><p>"We're in Temeria. Crossed the border a few hours back."</p><p> </p><p>"Oh," Jaskier said. He thought about what he knew of Temerian culture. "That explains it."</p><p> </p><p>For the next leg of the journey, Jaskier declared himself in charge of music. He ignored the dozens of missed calls and texts from his parents and instead made it his personal mission to update Geralt's taste in music. It was an almost impossible task. He hated almost everything Jaskier played, insisting that it was too repetitive or too emotional or just plain senseless. When he did like something, he limited his praise and only shrugged. But as the countryside crept by, he managed to put together a playlist of songs Geralt liked.  </p><p> </p><p>They stopped for lunch in a small town in southern Temeria. Jaskier bought a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses that clashed terribly with his outfit and took half a dozen selfies with them. In every photo, Geralt was in the background, ignoring Jaskier's antics in favour of something practical - buying food, filling up on petrol, looking at a map.  </p><p> </p><p>It was 3 o'clock when his parents pulled out the big guns. Realising they would never get through to him on their own, they had Priscilla message him. Jaskier was quick to assure her that he was fine. He followed up with one of the selfies he'd taken as evidence. After a few more messages, she at least was satisfied he was safe and happy, even if their parents were not.   </p><p> </p><p>He dozed off shortly after they crossed the border. When he woke, he found himself in a double bed in a richly appointed room. Rugs and furs covered the floor and hung from the walls, and all the furniture was made out of dark wood. The sheets had been pulled up over his shoulders, and his shoes sat at the edge of the bed. Geralt was nowhere to be seen. As tempting as it was to stay in bed, his bladder had other ideas, so he forced himself to get up. Using his phone as a torch, he found a tiny ensuite adjoining his room. A small hallway led to a set of stairs leading down, and when he peered out the window he could see the new moon peeking up over the top of a hill. After a brief internal debate, he changed into his pyjamas and crawled back into bed. He would work out what had happened to Geralt in the morning.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Toussaint</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>yes, i know i'm late on my other fic, but work has me horribly busy right now and that chapter needed heavy edits. this one, thankfully, did not.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The crow of a rooster woke him shortly after dawn. Jaskier sat up and groaned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and flailing in the direction of the curtains. What kind of rural hell-hole had Geralt landed him in? Although in the light of day, he could not deny that his room was beautiful, if a little old-fashioned. Paintings and tapestries adorned the walls, and the rug beside his bed was thick and plush. The pillows on his bed were silk and the sheets themselves were old, worn linen, softer than anything Jaskier had ever felt. It was a different kind of luxury to the ultra-modern mansion his parents lived in, but it was undoubtedly luxury. It was the kind of place his family would spend hundreds of dollars renting for a weekend away. The thought gave him a savage kind of pleasure. Even by their twisted standards, they ought to respect Geralt more than they did. Though – could this really be Geralt’s home? It was hard to imagine a man who lived out of his van and thought a washing machine was an unnecessary luxury living in a place like this.  </p>
<p>After a blissfully hot shower, Jaskier made his way downstairs. If not for the electric lights, Jaskier might have thought he had stepped back in time. The house and furniture were built of the same dark wood he had seen upstairs. Racks of armor lined the walls. One set was particularly splendid, all steel and gold like something out of a fairytale. The heraldry depicted red diamonds and a bridge; the same motive appeared on a shield hanging above it. The rest of the armor was more practical. Jaskier was hardly an expert, but he could picture Geralt in most of the armor, though none looked quite so fitting as his usual plain leathers. Geralt himself sat at the head of a long dining table. For once, his armour and swords were nowhere to be seen. He instead wore a loose-fitting white shirt, revealing a tantalising glimpse of scarred skin at the top of his chest. He sat with his back to Jaskier, but as soon as Jaskier reached the bottom of the stairs, he said,  </p>
<p>"It's about time you got up. There's coffee in the pot."</p>
<p>"Where are we?" Jaskier asked. He sank into a chair beside Geralt. The breakfast spread in front of him was huge and looked delicious.</p>
<p>"Corvo Bianco."</p>
<p>"Never heard of it," Jaskier said through a mouthful of toast. Geralt chuckled quietly.  </p>
<p>"I'll give you the tour after breakfast. I didn't want to wake you last night."</p>
<p>"It's been a long time since someone carried me to bed," Jaskier said. He then paused and wondered. Had he ever been carried to bed? None of his lovers had been strong enough. Presumably, his parents had done so when he was a child, but he had no memories of it.  </p>
<p>"So. Tell me. What's with all the armor?"</p>
<p>There was a gleam of interest in Geralt's eyes. He leaned forward in his seat and began to explain the purpose behind each set, how he had acquired them, and why he had kept them. He was delighted to explain the full history of each of them from the design to the manufacture, but he ignored the one that had first caught Jaskier's eye.</p>
<p>"What about that set?" Jaskier asked, pointing at the full plate.  </p>
<p>"Had to take part in a tourney as part of a contract. Luckily I'd been knighted a few years prior, in Rivia, or they wouldn't have let me compete. They made me wear that."</p>
<p>"You're a knight?" Jaskier asked, delighted. Sir Geralt of Rivia had a ring to it, he thought.  </p>
<p>"Mm. Several times over by now. Leaders don't seem to understand just how long a witcher lives. The duchess granted me this place as payment for a contract. The duchy is long gone and absorbed into Nilfgaard, but I'm still here."</p>
<p>"Will you tell me about the contract?"</p>
<p>"Later, maybe. I'd like to give you the tour."</p>
<p>They started with the house. It had been renovated over the years, but Geralt had kept it as close to the original as possible. If not for the plumbing and modern appliances, it would have been a perfect time capsule. Geralt's own room was on the ground floor. He did not invite Jaskier in, but peering through the door, Jaskier caught a glimpse of a painting of a man that looked just like him.</p>
<p>When Jaskier stepped out into the sunlight, his jaw dropped. The house was in fact a manor overlooking a sprawling vineyard. A little village had cropped up halfway down the hill, presumably occupied by the people who ran the vinyard. Geralt's manor sat at the top of the hill and overlooked a small courtyard filled with golden sunlight. He proceeded to take Jaskier around the property, pointing out the garden where he grew exotic herbs, the different varieties of grapes, and the grove of olive trees. People called out to Geralt as they walked. Most simply wanted to say hello and wish him well, but one or two of them came with reports of a monster in the area. Those conversations lasted a long time, leaving Jaskier with plenty of opportunities to stare in wonder at the estate around him. It could not be any further from the beaten up old van Geralt usually lived in. As far as Jaskier was concerned, it was paradise. He loved everything from the rolling fields of vines to the little stream trickling down the hill.</p>
<p>As they came to the end of the tour, Geralt said, "There's one more thing. There's someone here I'd like you to meet."</p>
<p>"Oh?" Jaskier asked, curious.  </p>
<p>"She's very important to me."</p>
<p>"Oh," Jaskier said, and tried not to look too dejected. He barely noticed their surroundings as Geralt led him inside a large wooden building. He was so distracted by his melancholy that he did not notice Geralt stop. Geralt did not budge an inch when he walked into him, not even to steady Jaskier when he stumbled. All his attention was on a horse. As far as Jaskier could tell, the horse seemed excited to see him, snorting and butting her head against his chest. Geralt chuckled.  </p>
<p>"I know, I've been away a long time. I'm back now. I brought a friend, too. Roach, this is Jaskier. Jaskier,  Roach."</p>
<p>The name 'Roach' echoed through Jaskier's mind. He heard Geralt repeat it a thousand different times in a thousand different tones. His head started to spin. He leaned against Geralt a little more heavily, not trusting his legs. By the time his vision cleared, Roach was attempting to eat his hair.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier, are you alright?"</p>
<p>"Fine, sorry," he said quickly, standing up a little straighter. "Just... Roach? You named your horse after an insect?"</p>
<p>"Of course not," Geralt said, looking at him in disgust. "A roach is a kind of fish."</p>
<p>"So what was your last horse called? Salmon?"</p>
<p>"Roach. I always call my horses Roach."</p>
<p>"Of course you do," Jaskier sighed. A part of him felt stupid, as if he ought to have known as much. He reached out and tentatively patted Roach on the neck. Somehow, the name suited her. He was not sure why, but some hitherto unknown corner of his brain was adamant that this horse be called Roach, even if she deserved a much greater name. Geralt must be rubbing off on him.  </p>
<p>"Hm. She likes you."  </p>
<p>"Of course she likes me. I'm very likeable," Jaskier told him.  </p>
<p>"Do you know how to ride? We could borrow one of the other horses, give you a tour of the area."</p>
<p>Jaskier shrugged. "You can teach me, right?"</p>
<p>"Hm. I suppose two weeks is enough to get you started," Geralt said. "Depends what else you want to do while you're here. But it's a useful skill."</p>
<p>"Was a useful skill, perhaps," Jaskier said with a snort. His first answer was ‘no’, but then he thought about how gentle Geralt was with Roach, and the soft little smile on his face when he interacted with her. He found himself wondering how long it had taken Geralt to switch to a car. He seemed to love horses the way Jaskier loved music. Once the thought had formed in his mind, there was only one decision Jaskier could make.  </p>
<p>"But I'd love to learn."</p>
<p>It was the right answer. That soft smile was directed at him this time, which made his insides twist and his heart flutter. Even if he hated it, he thought, it would be worth it to make Geralt smile like that.  </p>
<p>"Stay here. Roach, keep an eye on him."</p>
<p>Geralt disappeared deeper into the stable. Jaskier let out a huff. If either of them needed watching, it was likely the horse. He mentioned this to Roach, who watched him with one suspicious eye. He sighed. Something told him that in Geralt's eyes, Roach would beat any human in any contest. He'd seen similarly stupid behaviour in his sister about her horrible cat. No matter how much of Jaskier's blood the thing drew, she insisted that it had done nothing wrong.  </p>
<p>When Geralt returned, he was leading a grey mare by the reigns with a resigned expression.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier, this is Trout."</p>
<p>Jaskier blinked. A second later, he was laughing so hard he was forced to lean against the wall for support. It did not help when Geralt sighed. He had absolutely no sympathy for the sheer exhaustion on Geralt's face, too busy deriving his own entertainment from the situation. And for all Geralt huffed and pretended to be annoyed, Jaskier noticed the warmth in his eyes as he watched.  </p>
<p>"I didn't name her," Geralt said, as if that made things any better. "There's been a Roach here for as long as I have. Some of the workers made a joke out of it, and apparently it became a tradition."</p>
<p>If Geralt had hoped the explanation would stop him from laughing, he was sorely mistaken. The implication that every horse at Corvo Bianco was named after a fish set him off into more uncontrollable giggles. When he caught his breath, he asked Geralt how long he'd owned the place.  </p>
<p>"A few centuries. Like I said, I got it as part of a contract. You heard about the Night of the Long Fangs?"</p>
<p>"Vampires attacked Beauclair," Jaskier nodded. It may have been over seven centuries ago, but it was still brought up by human purists insisting anything non human needed to die. It was something Jaskier had heard a great deal about.  </p>
<p>"The duchess gave me the vinyard in return for dealing with the vampire responsible. I’ve called vampires friends before, but this one… I had no choice put to put him down."</p>
<p>It was only when he had extracted a promise from Geralt to tell the full story that Jaskier consented to start his lessons. Geralt taught him how to saddle a horse and the names of each piece. He did it on Roach to demonstrate, then insisted Jaskier attempt to saddle Trout himself. Jaskier approached the horse tentatively. He could not remember half the things Geralt had taught him, but once he started, it was easy. It seemed obvious how things were meant to fit together, and his hands moved without conscious effort. Before he knew it, the horse was saddled and ready to do. His fingers lingered towards the rear of the saddle. Some part of him was convinced he'd forgotten something, although he could not figure out what.  </p>
<p>"Hm, not bad," Geralt said when he checked his work. "You sure you haven't done this before?"</p>
<p>"Not since I hit by that car," Jaskier said.  </p>
<p>Geralt hummed but said nothing more on the topic. Instead, he taught him how to mount. Once Jaskier was seated, he lept onto Roach,  and off they went. They started at a walk, graduating to a trot once they exited the courtyard. When they passed through the village, smiling faces called out to Geralt and welcomed him back. As they rode, Jaskier felt his confidence grow. This was easy. No matter what gait they tried, it seemed a trivial matter to keep his seat and keep Trout on track.  </p>
<p>The route Geralt took him on was a long, winding path through the countryside. It seemed as if Geralt knew the history of every root and branch. An open field with cows was the site of the tourney Geralt had won; a verdant forest had once been home to a peaceful werewolf and her pack. At other places, Geralt stopped to call on his neighbours. At the edge of a forest, he left three bottles of wine for the elves that had set up camp there. A community of dwarfs on the very edge of Beauclair welcomed them in and would not let them leave without taking a cask of ale with them. They even visited a pair of rock trolls living in a cave. They were delighted to see Geralt, greeting him in their clumsy language and ushering him into the cave. Once inside, they thrust a small boulder into his arms.  </p>
<p>"Witchy man be careful. Small one is fragile."</p>
<p>"Huh. I've never seen a baby troll before," Geralt said. Jaskier peered over his shoulder. The baby was exceptionally ugly. Its face was pinched and plates of solid rock covered its limbs. It looked up at the two of them with innocent curiosity and tugged on the collar of Geralt's shirt.  </p>
<p>"What's their name?"</p>
<p>"Geralt," one troll said proudly. Shock flickered over Geralt's face. After a moment, his expression softened into something tender, and he smiled down at the ugly creature. Jaskier made a strangled sound, trying not to laugh. Misinterpreting his expression, the troll added,</p>
<p>"For witchy man. He talk with humans, get us cave. He no hit with swords like others do. Our son will be strong and smart like witchy man. "</p>
<p>"He's very clever, yes," Jaskier managed. He then excused himself from the cave, not trusting himself to keep a straight face any longer. It was undoubtedly a great honour. Scientists debated whether there even were any breeding pairs of trolls left, and if there were, if they would manage to reproduce. The fact that these two creatures had named their child after Geralt was a huge honour. But whenever he tried to take it seriously, he imagined troll- Geralt getting into trouble, and he found himself grinning again.  </p>
<p>When Geralt emerged, he was carrying a shiny rock in one hand. Once he reached Jaskier, he glanced back over his shoulder. Standing in the mouth of the cave, one of the trolls gave him a thumbs up. With a sigh, he thrust the shiny rock into Jaskier's hands.  </p>
<p>"They want me to give you this."</p>
<p>"What is it?"</p>
<p>"Just smile and take it. We can deal with it back home."</p>
<p>Baffled, Jaskier tucked the rock into his pocket. They then mounted the horses and rode off.</p>
<p>They returned to Corvo Bianco in time for a late lunch. Someone had left a basket of food at the door, including fresh bread, several varieties of cheese and cured meats, and little peppers stuffed with nuts and local herbs. Geralt added a bottle of wine to the spread and led Jaskier to a sunny seat beneath a wisteria-covered pergola attached to the house. The seat looked out over Geralt's personal garden. The little hillside was a riot of different colours as flowers for potions and poisons bloomed. Further away, he could see the sun high over the lake and the distant, rolling hills behind it. A wave of dizziness hit him. He disguised it by sitting down and staring at the hillside as he willed the world to stop spinning. He thought back to his thoughts in the car about wine and Gwent. This was undoubtedly the same seat he had seen so vividly then.  All that was missing was the warmth of Geralt's body against his own. </p>
<p>"When I got this place, I knew next to nothing about wine," Geralt said, taking a seat next to Jaskier. "Luckily for you, I've learnt a lot since then. Try this."</p>
<p>He poured Jaskier a glass of red wine. When he lifted the glass to his mouth, the sweet smell of flowers hit his nose, and when he drank, it tasted richly of plums and delicate spices. He swallowed. He then held the glass a little bit away from him and stared at it for several seconds in shock. </p>
<p>"Geralt, that's possibly the best wine I've ever tasted."</p>
<p>"I'd be disappointed if it wasn't. I've been saving it for a special occasion," Geralt said, pouring himself a glass.  </p>
<p>Jaskier snorted. "And the occasion is, what? My presence?"</p>
<p>Geralt gave an affirmative hum. He took a sip from his glass, never breaking eye contact with Jaskier. Jaskier felt a flush creeping over his cheeks.  </p>
<p>"Well, then."</p>
<p>"Jaskier," Geralt said, and there was enough warmth in his voice that Jaskier's heart swelled. "I don't... you mean a lot to me, you know that? You."</p>
<p>"Me," Jaskier echoed. A smile spread across his face, growing until his entire expression radiated joy. The declaration was awkward, but by now he knew Geralt well enough to understand the meaning and importance behind his words. The smile on Geralt's face now was for Jaskier and Jaskier alone. The affection growing in Jaskier’s heart was too much to resist. He shuffled closer and hugged him with all his might, tucking his face into Geralt’s neck. Gods, he loved this man.  </p>
<p>As soon as the thought drifted through his mind, panic started to churn in his gut. He tried to tell himself it had been a spur of the moment thought, but his stubborn heart said otherwise. Geralt was stubborn, grumpy, and strange, and Jaskier adored him. He loved his strange eyes and his scars and his old-fashioned ways. Instead of finding his less human attributes disturbing, he found them endearing; instead of fearing his capacity for violence, he felt safe, secure in the knowledge that nothing could hurt him if Geralt was there. Jaskier loved every inch of him, from his greasy hair to his filthy toes. Unable to resist, Jaskier leaned a little more heavily against Geralt, delighting in the solid warmth of his body against his own.  </p>
<p>Lost in thought, he almost missed the sound of Geralt sniffing his hair.  </p>
<p>"Are you sniffing me?" he squawked, indignant.  </p>
<p>"You smell different than usual," Geralt said. "Your heart rate is elevated. But you're not afraid."</p>
<p>Jaskier pulled away with a grimace. "Please tell me you can't read minds"</p>
<p>"Humans sweat more when feeling certain emotions. I can smell what hormones are in the sweat," Geralt explained. "It's not an exact science. One of my brothers has been studying it, but finding test subjects is hard."</p>
<p>"I wonder why," Jaskier said with a roll of his eyes. Despite his sarcasm, he added, "I can help, if you want."</p>
<p>"If I brought you home for the winter, he would have other, more pressing questions," Geralt said, avoiding Jaskier's gaze. It took a few seconds for Jaskier to realise what he was talking about, but when it did, his heart sank.  </p>
<p>"Right. I look like your husband."</p>
<p>Despite his best efforts, Jaskier failed to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Coming on the heels of his realization, it was a bitter thought. Geralt reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.  </p>
<p>"I can't pretend it doesn't affect me, but I meant what I said. I like you, Jaskier. Independent of what you are and what your past is."</p>
<p>"Even if I'm plain old human?" Jaskier couldn't help but ask. Geralt gave him a wry smile.  </p>
<p>"That's hardly the worst-case scenario."</p>
<p>"Geralt, that isn't reassuring!" Jaskier protested. "What is the worst-case scenario?"</p>
<p>Instead of answering, Geralt refilled their glasses. He stared into the wine for a long time before speaking.  </p>
<p>"There are a few possibilities. I've seen you handle silver, so that rules out most monsters. Couldn't be a Doppler or a wraith. Not a lot of options left after that, certainly nothing common. I'm investigating. Maybe I just find out you really are Julian, and I'm just imagining things. At least then you'd know what happened to you."</p>
<p>"Hm," Jaskier said, and took a sip of wine. He considered telling Geralt about the almost-memories he'd experienced since arriving in Corvo Bianco, but decided against it. He would not share until he understood it himself. Besides, a selfish part of him whispered, Geralt liked him for who he was. There was no need to muddy the waters by bringing up the memory of a dead man, not until he knew if he could win Geralt’s heart for himself.  </p>
<p>"Well, whatever I am, I'm someone with an appreciation for fine wine," he said. "In the meantime, tell me, what was with that rock the trolls wanted me to have?"</p>
<p>To his surprise, Geralt looked embarrassed. He reached a hand up behind himself and rubbed the back of his neck.  </p>
<p>"Trolls give certain kinds of rocks as courting gifts."</p>
<p>Jaskier choked on his wine. When he did not stop choking after a few seconds, Geralt thumped him on the back. There was an anxious look in his eyes as if he expected to be chastised, so Jaskier attempted a smile. When he could, he reached out and patted Geralt's bicep appreciatively. He took a few seconds to catch his breath. When he finally spoke, his words came out as a croak.</p>
<p>"They were asking for a threesome?"</p>
<p>Geralt shook his head. His lips twisted into a crooked little smile, and some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared.  </p>
<p>"Wouldn't have used an intermediary for that. They wanted me to give it to you. Seemed to think I needed help courting you."</p>
<p>The laughter that burst from Jaskier was bright and uncontrolled. He doubled over with giggles, forced to lean against Geralt for support. It was only when he managed to get himself under control that he noticed Geralt was not laughing. His entire body had gone stiff and tense. His face was turned away, but judging from the angle in his jaw, he was clenching his teeth tightly. Jaskier hummed to himself. He considered what he knew of Geralt's self-esteem and decided to take a risk. He found Geralt's hand and laced their fingers together. At the same time, he pressed close against him and tilted his face up with a sly smile.  </p>
<p>"If you wanted to get me into bed, flowers might have worked better."  </p>
<p>Geralt's head snapped around. He stared at Jaskier in disbelief. There was no anger or distress in his face, so Jaskier grinned and decided to go for broke.  </p>
<p>"Or wine. I'm very susceptible to wine. Especially poured for me by a handsome man."</p>
<p>Geralt stared at Jaskier, his brow pinched in confusion. Jaskier could all but hear the cogs turning in his mind as he tried to understand,  but after several seconds it became clear he was not going to comprehend. Something twisted uncomfortably in Jaskier's chest. He wondered what it was he grappled with. Was it Jaskier himself? Flirting with someone identical to his dead husband could only be baffling, and there was a significant age gap. Either one of those could be enough to confuse him. But Jaskier suspected the problem was something much, much worse: Geralt could not believe that Jaskier wanted to flirt with him. He had heard Geralt make enough disparaging remarks about his appearance to know he thought himself hideous.  </p>
<p>As soon as Jaskier decided on the problem, he knew the solution. He smiled, bumped their elbows together and changed the topic. This was something best addressed over time.  </p>
<p>"If you're done staring, that same handsome man promised me a round of cards."</p>
<p>Geralt latched on to the idea like a drowning man on a rope. "Gwent?"</p>
<p>"My deck is upstairs. I'll be right back."</p>
<p>Gwent was not his preferred form of gambling, but if it was Geralt's, he was happy to play. Luckily, he had packed all his games, including his Gwent deck, a regular set of cards, and his weighted dice. He took them all downstairs.  </p>
<p>When he returned, space had been cleared at the table to play. Geralt's own deck lay on one side. It was an ancient Northern Realms deck that looked to be as old as Geralt himself. When Jaskier set his own things down, Geralt smirked.</p>
<p>"Really, Jaskier? A Skellige deck?"</p>
<p>"Don't tell me you're a purist. There's an Ofier deck now, too."</p>
<p>"Don't get me started," Geralt said. There was a story there, so he needled and begged Geralt until he started to talk about his past. It quickly became clear that not even distracting Geralt would be enough for Jaskier to win the game. He lost every round. Not even cheating helped him, even when Geralt raised an eyebrow and let him do so. Geralt was a Gwent master. He had seen every (and, he later admitted, invented many) winning strategy. He knew all the cards and the history behind them. Names that meant nothing to Jaskier triggered fond memories for him, and he found himself with a new appreciation for historical figures.  </p>
<p>After Gwent, they moved on to poker, where Jaskier won back some of his pride. When they grew tired of cards, they switched to dice poker, where Jaskier won every round.  </p>
<p>As the sun set, a woman climbed up to the manor. Her brown and greying hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense bun, but she greeted the two of them with a smile. She carried a basket of food, which she handed over to Geralt. She and Geralt began to converse in the local language, leaving Jaskier free to snoop through Geralt's Gwent deck. The game hit differently, he thought, when you knew the people on the cards. One card featured an exquisite little portrait of Geralt himself. Another featured the Empress as a young woman, though oddly, the card made no reference to her royal blood. Instead, it depicted her with her sword drawn, staring down a monster ten times her size. Based on the portrait and her silver hair, Jaskier almost mistook her for another witcher.  </p>
<p>He continued to inspect the cards until he drew a card with a portrait of himself. The card, labelled "Dandelion", was one of the oldest in the deck. It showed Dandelion with his lute, striding forward with a confident gait. A peculiar melody played in the back of his mind, the same melody that he had been unable to finish. His vision blurred, and he quickly tucked the card back into the deck. The melody did not stop, and he found himself tapping out the rhythm on the table.</p>
<p>It was not until the woman left that Geralt interrupted him, putting his hand over Jaskier's.  </p>
<p>"Are you alright?"</p>
<p>Jaskier managed a nod. It was far from convincing, but he did not trust his voice to stay steady if he spoke. Geralt frowned. He shifted a little closer to Jaskier and raised his arm in silent invitation. Seizing the opportunity, Jaskier ducked under his arm and cuddled up against Geralt's side.  The solid bulk of the witcher beside him soothed him. As sense came back to him, he decided he needed a distraction.  </p>
<p>"Who was that?"</p>
<p>"Lucille. She and her wife run the place for me. Her great-great… uh, I forget how many greats. Fuck. She's related to the majordomo that helped me get this place up and running. Nice family. We're saving up to send her son to Oxenfurt, actually."</p>
<p>"We?" Jaskier asked, delighted, and Geralt ducked his head and avoided his eyes.  </p>
<p>"He's a good kid. Loves horses, not so good with people. He wants to become a veterinarian."</p>
<p>Loves horses, not so good with people, Jaskier thought, and he could not have kept from smiling if he tried.  </p>
<p>"Sounds like you."</p>
<p>"Watch it," Geralt growled, but there was no heat to his words. Unrepentant, Jaskier elbowed him in the ribs. Geralt's arm shifted from around his shoulders so his bicep pressed against Jaskier's neck. His forearm twisted up in a V-shape, but before he could close the headlock, he jerked his arm away as if burnt. He scooted away from Jaskier and held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. There was a split second where he and Jaskier made eye contact. The guilt and self-loathing in Geralt's eyes infuriated Jaskier, and without thinking, he tackled him. The two of them tumbled back and to the ground. Geralt twisted as they fell, putting his body between Jaskier and the hard stone.  </p>
<p>"Don't you dare apologise, you bastard," Jaskier said. He writhed on top of Geralt,  trying to get into a position where he could return the headlock. If he had tried, Geralt could have stopped him easily, but he seemed unwilling to put hands on him to defend himself. After a few seconds, Jaskier sat up with a huff.</p>
<p>"It's no fun if you're not reciprocating."</p>
<p>"Hm," Geralt said. His golden eyes swept over Jaskier's body, lingering on where he straddled his hips. A spectacularly stupid looking smile appeared on his face. "That's what sh-"</p>
<p>Seeing where the punchline was going, Jaskier clamped a hand over Geralt's mouth. Struggling not to laugh, he said,  </p>
<p>"You can't make sex jokes when I'm on top of you!"</p>
<p>In response, Geralt licked his palm. Jaskier withdrew his hand with a disgusted noise. He made the mistake of making eye contact with Geralt, and that was it. He dissolved into helpless giggles. That was the moment Geralt chose to move, thrusting his hips up and to the side. Jaskier tumbled, and before he knew what was happening, their places were reversed. He grinned up at Geralt.  </p>
<p>"Your sense of humour is dreadful."</p>
<p>"Yours must be too, if I made you laugh," Geralt countered. There was a pause as Geralt stared at him and breathed deeply before he said in wonder, "You're not scared."</p>
<p>Baffled, Jaskier stared at him. When understanding dawned, he huffed and whacked Geralt's hip.  </p>
<p>"Is that why you were acting so strange? I'm not made of glass, Geralt, I wouldn't have shoved you if I was scared."</p>
<p>"Most people would be frightened to be pinned under a witcher. Especially me."</p>
<p>"Well, I can't say how I'd feel about another witcher, but with you, Geralt, I'm happy where I am."</p>
<p>It took every ounce of Jaskier's self-control to keep the statement earnest and innocent. 'Happy' was not quite the right word. He was happy, still entertained by Geralt's joke and pleased he had finally joined in on the wrestling, but that ignored the undercurrent of lust running in the back of his mind. He could picture all too many scenarios where he would be very happy beneath Geralt. Geralt's nose twitched. Remembering what Geralt had said about smelling hormones, Jaskier flushed red and tried to scramble away. As soon as Geralt realised what he was doing, he let Jaskier escape. Geralt stared at him, dumbstruck.  </p>
<p>"Not a word," Jaskier warned him, jabbing a finger in his direction. Geralt nodded, but the astonishment on his face said enough. They separated, Geralt still watching Jaskier in wonder. The reaction made something in Jaskier’s heart twist, and he silently resolved to boost Geralt’s ego, whatever the cost.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Beauclair</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for your encouragement!</p>
<p>content warnings: alcohol, PTSD, and minor background characters being bigots.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At breakfast the next day, Geralt announced he was leaving on a hunt. A spriggan had moved into the area, and it was enough of a threat that it could not wait even a single day more.  </p>
<p>"I'll come with you," Jaskier said eagerly.  </p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p>"Please?" he begged, leaning forward in his seat and into Geralt's space. "I'll stay out of the way, I promise, you won't even know I'm there."</p>
<p>"No," Geralt growled. His face twisted into a vicious snarl revealing his teeth, and his hand shot out to grasp Jaskier's arm. Jaskier winced a little at the touch. There would be bruises when Geralt let go and his arm ached under the crushing pressure. He tapped Geralt's wrist and told him,  </p>
<p>"Gentle."</p>
<p>Geralt stared his own hand in horror and withdrew it. Before he could retreat any further, Jaskier reached out and grasped his wrist.  </p>
<p>"Easy. Something is wrong, Geralt. Talk to me."</p>
<p>"I won't let you get hurt," Geralt growled.  </p>
<p>"I wouldn't be in any danger. You'd keep me safe," Jaskier said confidently, but Geralt shook his head.  </p>
<p>"That's what Dandelion thought."</p>
<p>The words felt like a knife in Jaskier's chest. They hurt so much the pain was physical. His left hand twitched as a spasm of pain took his forearm, and for a moment he could have sworn he had no feeling in his right leg. But what he noticed was the deep ache of sympathy and grief in his heart. Geralt had watched his husband die in front of him. Any man would be traumatised after that. Add to the mix Geralt's guilt and self-loathing, and you had the perfect mix for post-traumatic stress disorder. Even if Geralt was naturally inclined to allow humans to follow him on his hunts, Jaskier in particular would be a sticking point. Jaskier dropped Geralt's wrist and leaned over to hug him. He could not quite reach, so he let go long enough to scootch his chair a little closer, then hugged him again. At some point, they would need to address Geralt’s fear, but right now, Jaskier had bigger priorities.  </p>
<p>"Okay. I won't ask again."</p>
<p>"I can't risk you getting hurt," Geralt said, losing none of the intensity from before.  </p>
<p>"I know,  I know," Jaskier soothed. "It's alright, Geralt. I'm here. Just focus on me, okay? I'm here, I'm safe, I'm not hurt."</p>
<p>Geralt's arms wrapped around him so tightly he could scarcely breathe. He felt Geralt tuck his face into the crook of his neck and sniff. After a few moments of that, he relaxed so much he slumped against him and inhaled deeply.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier," he rumbled, his voice even lower than usual. The sound made Jaskier shiver, but he pushed his reaction aside to focus on the task at hand.</p>
<p>"Better?"</p>
<p>The hum Geralt gave sounded like agreement, so Jaskier smiled. Geralt chose that point to release him and shift away, avoiding Jaskier's gaze. Searching for a safe topic, Jaskier said,</p>
<p>"Why not drop me in Beauclair for the day? I'll be out of your way, safe, and I can spend the day doing all kinds of things you'd find boring."</p>
<p>"Hmm. Like what?" Geralt wanted to know.  </p>
<p>"Shopping, for one. I am going to buy so many clothes, Geralt.  Your van is going to be full on the way back. And art! You're old as balls, you've probably seen all the boring tourist crap already, but I haven't! I’m talking about art, Geralt, and history!"</p>
<p>Geralt snorted. "Point taken. I'll drop you off by the old gates."</p>
<p>Grinning, Jaskier stole a pastry from the breakfast table and dashed upstairs to prepare for the day. With a limited wardrobe, it did not take him long to choose his outfit and dress. By the time he emerged downstairs, Geralt had assembled a series of bottles on the table. When Jaskier entered, he put the vials into a leather pouch which he attached to his belt.  </p>
<p>"Ready to go?"</p>
<p>"I recognise some of those bottles. You're not planning on getting hurt, are you?"</p>
<p>"Spriggans are dangerous. It's a possibility," Geralt said. Jaskier’s heart sank.</p>
<p>Heedless of the beauty surrounding him, Jaskier pestered him for the entire drive to Beauclair. Now that he knew Geralt would be in danger, he was not so happy about leaving him alone for the day. Worse, Geralt did not seem perturbed. Injury was inevitable for witchers, he claimed. No matter how careful and skilled he was, sooner or later someone or something would get in a lucky hit. If he was lucky, it would only mean another scar. His attitude horrified Jaskier. He reached out and grasped his forearm.  </p>
<p>"Geralt. Promise me you'll come back."</p>
<p>Geralt did not take his eyes off the road, but his lips twisted into a dry, resigned approximation of a smile.  </p>
<p>"You have my word I will do everything within my power to return."</p>
<p>"Geralt! That's not good enough!"</p>
<p>"It's all I can promise. It's part of being a witcher."</p>
<p>"Take reinforcements. There's no reason it has to be just you and a sword. We have guns, you know."</p>
<p>"Guns can miss, and silver bullets are expensive. You can't just melt down ordinary silver. It needs to be specially treated to be hard enough to be effective as a weapon. And when you're out of bullets, you can't use a gun to parry an incoming blow. There's a time and a place for guns, but this isn't it."</p>
<p>"But -"</p>
<p>"Jaskier, I've spent the last seven centuries as a witcher. You're a musician. Stick with what you know," Geralt growled. The words were curt and rude,  but it was the underlying condescension in his tone that set Jaskier's blood boiling. Whatever he was, he was not a child and did not like being treated like one. This was one of the first times Jaskier had experienced Geralt's anger directed at himself, and he found he did not like it at all. Part of him wanted to cave, but instead, he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.  </p>
<p>"Pull over."</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"I need to yell at you, and I can't do that safely when you're driving."</p>
<p>"I - "</p>
<p>"I said pull over.  Now."</p>
<p>Geralt sighed. He did not immediately comply, but he did turn off the main road. Once they were clear of the traffic, he pulled over and turned the engine off.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier-"</p>
<p>"Shh, I'm the one talking, not you. I know you're grumpy and you've got the whole tortured hero thing going on, but you listen to me, Geralt of Rivia. You do not get to be rude to me when I'm trying to save your life. Do you understand me?"</p>
<p>Geralt shut his mouth. His lips thinned and he glared at Jaskier for several seconds. Jaskier glared back. After a long pause, Geralt broke eye contact and looked away.  </p>
<p>"Just because I was rude doesn't mean I'm wrong."</p>
<p>"Maybe not, but you don't have to be a dick about it," Jaskier told him.  </p>
<p>"You were a dick, too," Geralt grumbled. Jaskier reflected on that and was forced to concede Geralt did indeed have a point. In his anxiety over Geralt's safety, he had pushed a little hard.  </p>
<p>"Yes, well, at least I had an excuse. I don't want you to get hurt."</p>
<p>"I'm a witcher," Geralt said, as if that was an explanation. "I've lasted this long, Jaskier, and if I have a choice, I'll be here a while longer. But I can't make any promises."</p>
<p>"Just… promise me you'll be careful?" Jaskier asked, biting his lip. “I don’t want you hurt, and I really don’t want to lose you.”</p>
<p>"I will be careful," Geralt said,  not breaking eye contact. Jaskier nodded. If that was the best he could hope for, he would take it.  </p>
<p>Once their argument was settled, Geralt restarted the car and turned back to the main road. He left Jaskier just outside the gates of old Beauclair, where he spent the morning exploring the art and history of the city. He visited the ducal palace, now a grand museum with regular tours by historians. He visited the parliament, once the Nilfgaardian Embassy, now the centre of power in Toussaint. A bust of the empress stood near the entrance. It looked familiar, he thought, more familiar than a mythical empress had any right to. There was something about the stubborn set of her jaw that reminded him of Geralt. The resemblance ended there. Her skin was clear of scars and blemishes, and her features were small and delicate and conventionally beautiful. He could hardly imagine a woman like this slinking into his apartment at 3 AM covered in sewage and blood. Likewise, he could not imagine Geralt as a refined politician free of scars. He must, he decided, be imagining things.</p>
<p>After lunch, he switched to shopping. He bounced between boutiques and flea markets, picking out the boldest colours and patterns he could find. In the boutiques, he swaggered in with all the arrogance a Pankratz was expected to have. He bought very little, but the glimpse into up-and-coming fashion trends gave him ideas as to what to buy when he was somewhere more affordable.</p>
<p>At the markets, he bought dozens of clothes and sundry. He lingered at various stalls and picked out gifts for friends and family back home. For Priscilla, he bought a small landscape done by a local artist; for his office-mate, he bought a second-hand book introducing poetry to children. As the afternoon waned into evening, he found himself lingering at a stall selling all kinds of oddities and curiosities. A collection of spoons took up a whole corner, right next to a cabinet with priceless jewels, while another display was stacked with skulls both animal and human. The wall at the back of the stall was lined with mirrors of all shapes and sizes. Jaskier was admiring himself in one when the stallholder stepped forward. He was far more friendly and welcoming than Jaskier would have expected him to be, and he found himself drawn into conversation. He was about to enquire about the price of a pretty silver dagger when his phone buzzed. He sighed theatrically and made his apologies. The stallholder sent him off with a friendly smile and an invitation to trade in the future.</p>
<p>The walk to the palace felt like a long one. His backpack was filled to the brim with clothes and accessories, and he carried three more bags by hand. He forgot about the weight as soon as he saw Geralt, beaming when he saw there was not so much as a scratch on the witcher.  Once satisfied Geralt was unharmed, he handed over all his shopping bags on the grounds that they were simply too heavy for him. Geralt grunted as he took them.</p>
<p>"Fuck, what have you got in here? Bricks?"</p>
<p>"Just clothes," Jaskier said, waving a hand dismissively. "Can we stick around for a few hours? The night-life in Beauclair is famous."</p>
<p>Geralt sighed, but he did not disagree. They had dinner at the oldest restaurant in the city, where Jaskier pestered Geralt for details of his hunt. He used his phone to take notes. It would make a brilliant song, he thought, and he jotted down a few bars he thought would work for the chorus. He wished he had brought an instrument. He could have started composing right there and tested the melody on an audience immediately.  </p>
<p>Following the advice of their young waiter, they then made their way to a local club. Unlike the grimy clubs Jaskier was used to at home, this one was as much a beer garden as anything else. Verdant plants lined the walls, and there was no ceiling. But the music was too loud to talk, and the patrons were all there to drink themselves stupid, dance, and hook up. In the spirit of the venue, Jaskier ordered two shots of vodka.  </p>
<p>"To your victory," he said, and they both downed the shot. Geralt immediately knocked back two more. For every drink Jaskier took, Geralt had two more. When the lights went down and the flashing, pulsating lights of the dancefloor started up, Geralt grimaced. He stole Jaskier’s heart-shaped glasses and put them on, grumbling about the lights changing too quickly for him to adjust. Laughing with delight, Jaskier wrapped an arm around him and snapped a photo of the two of them together.  </p>
<p>By midnight, they were both drunk enough that they were staggering when they walked. To his delight, Jaskier managed to drag Geralt toward the dance floor. Geralt lingered on the edge while Jaskier danced giving himself over to the flow of the music, rolling his hips and twisting his spine with the rhythm.  </p>
<p>The first time someone tried to steal him away to dance together, he gently rejected them and slipped a little closer to Geralt, who said nothing. The second time, he was firmer. When he stepped closer to Geralt, he let out a small huff and wrapped his arms around his neck, muttering about how rude some people could be. Once he was given space, he slipped away again with a laugh, a wink, and a sway of his hips. The third time, he did not even have time to respond. Geralt pulled him close, pinning him against his body with one arm. He growled at the intruder. It was a savage, feral sound, and this close Jaskier could see his canines seemed sharper than most. It thrilled him more than it ought to, especially when Geralt turned to look at him after the intruder ran. All signs of anger were gone, replaced with care and concern.</p>
<p>"Are you okay?" </p>
<p>"Why wouldn't I be?" Jaskier asked, bemused.  </p>
<p>"They wouldn't leave you alone. I thought - forget it."</p>
<p>A grin spread slowly across Jaskier's face. He hadn't been feeling possessive. He had been worried about Jaskier, and that was enough to make Jaskier's heart swell. Drunk, he leaned in and placed a sloppy kiss to Geralt's cheek.  </p>
<p>"My hero."</p>
<p>Geralt scowled, looking away. "You're mocking me."</p>
<p>"No. I'm teasing you. I can handle people asking me to dance, but I appreciate that you cared enough to interfere."</p>
<p>"You can dance with them. If you want," Geralt said,  awkward but earnest. Jaskier grinned, looping his arms around Geralt's neck and pulling him closer.  </p>
<p>"I want to dance with you."</p>
<p>"You don't have to."</p>
<p>"I want to," Jaskier insisted. "I like you."</p>
<p>"Oh," Geralt said, and stared at him with wide eyes. Drunk and heedless of the consequences, Jaskier grinned and dragged him deeper onto the dancefloor.  </p>
<p>When they at last staggered out of the club, they were both exhausted and sweaty from dancing. Geralt was far too drunk to drive, so he led the way to a nearby hotel and waved off Jaskier’s offers to help pay. The world seemed to spin before Jaskier's eyes as he staggered after him. After he walked into a pole, Geralt wrapped an arm around his waist and encouraged him to lean against him.  </p>
<p>"You're drunk."</p>
<p>"Hmph. You're drunk," Jaskier grumbled. He made a small sound of delight when Geralt pulled him close.  Geralt kept him upright as they found a hotel and walked into the lobby. The man behind the desk looked at Geralt’s white hair, then at Jaskier clinging to him. He frowned and said,  </p>
<p>"Sir, we don't allow sex workers here."</p>
<p>"Why not? They need somewhere to work," Jaskier said, frowning at the man. Geralt sighed, sounding every one of his seven hundred and something years.  </p>
<p>"We're not – he's my friend. He had a bit too much to drink and needs to sleep it off. Do you have any twin rooms?"</p>
<p>The man behind the desk seemed mollified by Geralt's request for a room with two beds, but unfortunately, there were none to be had. Instead, he offered them a room with a queen bed. Geralt agreed, and before Jaskier knew what was happening, Geralt had coaxed him into the lift and up to their room. As soon as he saw the bed, Jaskier began to strip.  </p>
<p>"Uh," Geralt said. Jaskier threw his shirt at him and missed.</p>
<p>"Please, we're going to be living together, you need to get used to this," Jaskier said. Once done to his boxers, he flopped face down on the bed. "Get in the bed, Geralt."</p>
<p>"You're drunk."</p>
<p>"Which would be a concern if we were going to fuck, but I'm going to sleep," Jaskier said. He wriggled under the covers and let out a happy little sigh. A few moments later, he heard Geralt moving around the room. When the bed dipped under his weight, Jaskier opened his eyes and grinned at him.  </p>
<p>"Hi."</p>
<p>"I thought you said you were going to sleep," Geralt said.  </p>
<p>"I am. But I want to be the big spoon."</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"Lie down," Jaskier ordered, and Geralt did so. With some pushing and shoving, he got Geralt to roll onto his side. He then pressed up against Geralt's back and slung an arm around him. The feel of Geralt's bare skin against his own brought a stupid smile to his face. This was wonderful. He tucked his face against the back of Geralt's neck and let out a happy little sigh. He fell asleep quickly. Each time he woke for the bathroom, he returned to the same position. He quickly grew accustomed to falling asleep with Geralt in his arms. As absurd as it was, he felt as if he were somehow shielding him from the outside world and all the dangers and discomfort there. And while Geralt did not need to be protected, he certainly deserved it.  </p>
<p>They woke the next morning to a knock at the door. The sound caused Jaskier's headache to pound behind his eyes, and nausea rolled in his belly. Beside him, Geralt sprang to his feet. He answered the door in nothing but the loose pants he had slept in. Jaskier waited for him to tell the cleaning staff to come back later but instead, a man's voice said,  </p>
<p>"Is Mr Pankratz here?"</p>
<p>"He's asleep."</p>
<p>"We need to talk to him," the man said. There was a long pause.  When it became clear Geralt was struggling to respond, Jaskier shouted without lifting his head from the pillow.</p>
<p>"Fuck off."</p>
<p>He heard a quiet conversation,  too soft for Jaskier to make the words out. The door shut and Geralt returned. He put a hand on Jaskier's shoulder and said quietly,  </p>
<p>"I bought us some time, but I don't know how long. Get up. You'll feel better after a shower."</p>
<p>Jaskier groaned. Geralt was right, of course, but all he wanted to do was wallow in the misery of his hangover. He lurched to his feet. Geralt passed him a bottle of water and he staggered into the shower with a grunt. Despite his hangover, he played music on his phone as he bathed and sang along loudly and out of key. By the time he was done, he felt not quite normal, but good enough to face whatever was waiting for him. He walked back to the bedroom with a towel around his waist.  </p>
<p>"Good thing I went shopping yesterday," he said to himself. To his amusement, Geralt stared out the window the entire time.  </p>
<p>"Never would have fingered you for a prude," he grinned.  "You can look now."</p>
<p>"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."</p>
<p>"Very chivalrous," Jaskier said, trying not to laugh. "Now, shall we deal with my fans?"</p>
<p>"They were police," Geralt said gravely. Jaskier cursed. While the police had never given him much trouble, he knew enough about how they treated the disadvantaged that the held them with a healthy disrespect.   </p>
<p>"Well. I'll deal with them, and you can break me out if they take too long."</p>
<p>The police, to Jaskier's dismay, were waiting in the hall. There were six of them, led by a man with square shoulders, a square jaw, and very little hair. Just looking at him, Jaskier hated him. He'd met dozens of identical men in pubs around Oxenfurt, talking loudly about sports and mocking Jaskier and his friends for standing out. He smiled and offered his hand to Jaskier. Jaskier did not take it.</p>
<p>"Mr Pankratz, it's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Captain Hunter. We've arranged for one of the conference rooms to be set aside for us. If you wouldn't mind?"</p>
<p>"Fine," Jaskier said, and followed them into the hall. "Do you mind telling me what this is about?"</p>
<p>The captain glanced back to the door which now concealed Geralt. "In due time, I assure you."</p>
<p>Jaskier huffed. "You woke me up. The least you could do is tell me why."</p>
<p>They led him to a conference room on the ground floor, while Jaskier complained the entire way. The captain sat opposite him at the table with one officer by his side to take notes. The rest distributed themselves around the room, watching the exits. Jaskier dropped into the chair and swung his legs over the arms. If he was going to do this, he was going to be as obnoxious as possible about it. And if his drama helped hide his anxiety – well. With any luck, this had nothing to do with the priceless elven relic he had stolen from his parents. He waited for the police to settle down before asking,  </p>
<p>"Will you tell me now?"</p>
<p>"We've received word from our Redanian colleagues that Mr Julian Pankratz has been reported missing."</p>
<p>There was a pause as Jaskier processed that. The relief that he had not been caught stealing was stifled by a sudden swell of irritation.</p>
<p>"Oh, for fuck's sake," Jaskier groaned. In retrospect, he should have seen this coming. He brought a hand theatrically to his forehead. "Let me guess. Mother dearest filed the report."</p>
<p>"The report also suggested you were being threatened or blackmailed by the non-human. We take such charges very seriously here in Toussaint."</p>
<p>There was a pause as Jaskier processed that. The only Scoia’tael he had seen recently had been outside his parents’ house, and they had been downright friendly by their standards. After several seconds, he realized that meant Geralt, he laughed.  </p>
<p>"Please, Geralt couldn't hurt a fly. He's my friend. I don't know if you've heard of them, with such a revolting personality you've probably never had one, but --"</p>
<p>"Sir, I am required to perform a full investigation into any such accusations."</p>
<p>"You pull this routine every time a family of rich assholes has a spat? Because I can assure you, that's all that's happening here. Dear mummy has spit the dummy because I'm not the model son she hoped for, and you've gone and put yourself in the middle of it. I’m not happy, because you woke me up and insulted my friend. And unless you’ve got a way of turning me into a boring heterosexual lawyer, you’re not going to make my parents happy, either. Are you happy, captain? I hope not."</p>
<p>"You disappeared with a potentially hostile non-human and haven't been in communication since. Any parent would be worried."</p>
<p>"Hostile?” Jaskier spluttered. “I've known Geralt for months. The worst thing he's done is steal my chips when we go out for burgers. As for staying in contact, I sent my sister a dozen messages yesterday. I'm not sure if you're here to cause problems for me or for Geralt, but either way, you shan't have my cooperation.”</p>
<p>Jaskier paused and sat up straight, put his feet on the ground and leaned forward. “Am I free to go, or should I call a lawyer?"</p>
<p>"You can go, " the captain said, looking like he'd bitten into a lemon. "But remember, Mr Pankratz, we're here to help you."</p>
<p>"Then act like it, and fuck off and leave us alone," Jaskier said, and got to his feet. When he stormed out of the room, he was delighted to find Geralt waiting for him with a large coffee and a croissant. Jaskier fell on both immediately. At his first bite into the fluffy pastry, he closed his eyes and moaned in ecstasy.</p>
<p>"Oh, that is good, Geralt, I think I'm in love."</p>
<p>"You're a menace is what you are," Geralt grumbled. He set off in the direction of the car, and Jaskier followed,  praising his croissant the entire time. Addressing his breakfast directly, he said,  </p>
<p>"It's okay, baby, he just doesn't understand."</p>
<p>"Should've left you with the cops."</p>
<p>Jaskier shuddered at the very idea. "Oh, no thank you, they're simply awful. Do you know what set them all off?"</p>
<p>"I overheard a bit, yeah."</p>
<p>"My mother!" Jaskier said, outraged. He proceeded to explain the situation in full, ignoring the fact that Geralt had apparently overheard some of it. When he had told the story once, he called Priscilla, filling her in on what had happened and how outraged he was. By the time he was done, they were halfway back to Corvo Bianco, the radio playing softly in the background.  </p>
<p>"At least it distracted you from your hangover," Geralt said.  </p>
<p>"Hangover?" Jaskier echoed.  </p>
<p>"This morning?"</p>
<p>"Oh, right, that hangover," Jaskier said. "Well, like you said, the shower helped."</p>
<p>"Hmm," Geralt said and said no more.  </p>
<p>Jaskier spent the morning packing away his purchases. In the afternoon, they went riding again. The more time Jaskier spent on horseback, the more familiar it became. He focused less and less on controlling the mount beneath him and more on the natural beauty of Toussaint and the stories Geralt had to tell.  </p>
<p>The next two weeks were two of the best weeks Jaskier could remember. Most days were a pleasant combination of riding, gambling, and wine. When Geralt had work to do, Jaskier played his lute. Some evenings, he would play for Geralt, and the old witcher would close his eyes and listen with a half-smile on his face. On the hottest days, they would visit the lake. Jaskier took great delight in leaping from the pier into the ice cold water. He had the lake to himself for as far as the eye could see. Ordinary swimmers kept to patrolled areas for fear of drowners, but ordinary swimmers did not have a witcher watching over them. Despite Jaskier's repeated invitation, Geralt did not join him. He claimed there was no pleasure to be had in swimming in a lake, and he would only enter if necessity demanded it.  </p>
<p>"Don't tell me you can't swim," Jaskier said, gaping at him. Geralt snorted and shook his head.  </p>
<p>"I can swim better than you, Jaskier. That doesn't mean I want to."</p>
<p>Their final day at Corvo Bianco was a sombre one. For once, Geralt paid little heed to Jaskier. Instead, he spent the entire day with his horse, grooming her and giving her treats and generally spoiling her. For the most part, Jaskier left him to it. He only interrupted once, sneaking in with his phone to take photos of them together. He would surprise Geralt, he decided, and get a photo of him and Roach printed to decorate their new home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! Thank you for all your comments and kudos so far, it's super encouraging. The next chapter may be a wee bit late, so I've tried to make this a bit longer than usual.</p>
<p>This chapter contains a discussion of character death and traumatic experiences.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At Jaskier's request, Geralt dropped him off outside his parents' house. He started up at the house in trepidation. After the fiasco with the police, he was not sure how welcome he would be. Still, there was only one way to find out. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and marched up to the front door. He reached for the key, then hesitated. Instead of letting himself in, he knocked on the door.  </p>
<p>When the door opened, his mother froze on the spot. After several seconds, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.  </p>
<p>"We were so worried! It's been weeks, you didn't call, I thought you were gone again!"</p>
<p>"Yes, well, I did tell you I was going on holiday," Jaskier said. He considered apologising, but he could not bring himself to lie. "You didn't have to call the police."</p>
<p>"You ran off in the middle of the night with a non-human. And that same night they found that horrid vampire around the corner, and dear Siegfried -- you remember Siegfried? He's a friend of your father's -- he was murdered! By elves!"</p>
<p>"Ah. Well, as you can see, I have not been murdered by elves," Jaskier said. He thought of the elven woman he had met and her fiery hatred of most humans. She'd been kind to him. She'd saved his life. It was hard to imagine her murdering one of his father's friends and political allies, but he had no doubt she had done so.  </p>
<p>"Come in, Julian, your father will want to see you when he gets home."</p>
<p>Jaskier failed to hide a grimace, and his mother flinched.  </p>
<p>"I mean -- Jaskier. That's what you want to be called, isn't it?"</p>
<p>The words caught him so off guard that he stumbled over his own feet. "Yes. Please."</p>
<p>"Jaskier, then," she said. A tentative, hopeful smile started to spread over Jaskier’s face. He’d wanted this for years. If he'd known running off was all it took to get her to use his name, he would have tried it long ago.  </p>
<p>Both his parents welcomed him home with open arms. They used the correct name and listened attentively to everything he had to say, and when he made it clear he would not tolerate insulting Geralt, they dropped the topic. Jaskier could hardly believe it. He spent the entire day waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never did. The only difficulty came when it was time to pack up his things and go home. They did not protest, but they were obviously unhappy to see him go.  </p>
<p>"Will you at least come to your father's next fund-raising event?" his mother asked, wringing her hands together anxiously. “It would mean ever so much to him, you know.”</p>
<p>A fund-raising event sounded like hell to Jaskier, but his parents had made compromises for him, so he agreed to go. He could afford to meet them halfway on this. He left the house with an extra thousand crowns to spend on a tailored suit and the names of three different tailors.  </p>
<p>The house, when he arrived, was largely empty. Geralt had carried Jaskier's new clothes upstairs for him and set his own bedroll out, but he had no other furniture to set up. Nevertheless,  he helped Jaskier lug his furniture upstairs.  </p>
<p>"We're going to have to go to Ikea," Jaskier mused. "And a hardware shop. I refuse to sleep in a room painted black. Just think how washed out I'll look, ugh! Not all of us can pull off the skin like milk look."</p>
<p>"That's a nice way of saying I look like a corpse," Geralt grunted.  </p>
<p>"A sexy corpse though," Jaskier said, then winced. Even by his standards, that was a lousy compliment. He hadn't wanted to lie, knowing Geralt was not likely to forget his skin had an unnatural pallor to it. He did not blush, nor did he turn red from heat or any other cause. And in the right lighting, he did look rather corpse-like. But Jaskier thought he was handsome and had grown to appreciate his appearance, the same way he enjoyed his yellow eyes and snow-white hair.  </p>
<p>After a long pause, Geralt broke the silence. "You mentioned something called Ikea?"</p>
<p>The abrupt change of topic startled a laugh out of Jaskier. He explained, and they made plans to go shopping that weekend.  </p>
<p>The week passed in a blur. Jaskier slipped back into his work at the university, making up for his absence by translating a song in record time. He thought of what Geralt said about forgotten and banned songs, and sent a few emails out to elven academics. The odds of them responding were slim, but the pay off would be high.  </p>
<p>When not working, he spent an alarming amount of time at the tailor. Fortunately, the second tailor he visited took one look at his tacky shirt and clashing shorts and grinned. Instead of showing him fabrics in different shades of grey and black, he brought out a dazzling array of reds, blues, and yellows. After some debate, he brought out a jacket he had been working on for a recent cancelled order. It was covered in delicate embroidery depicting wildflowers, and the lining was patterned silk. Jaskier fell in love instantly. With a few alterations, it would make a stylish high-waisted jacket that would pair well with the right pants and shirt.</p>
<p>When Friday evening rolled around, he locked himself in the bathroom to prepare. It took him three hours to shower, style his hair, choose a cologne, and dress. Once satisfied, he strode out into his bedroom and struck a pose.  </p>
<p>"Well?"</p>
<p>Geralt looked up from his seat on Jaskier's bed, where he was watching reality TV shows with apparent fascination. He held the spoon to a giant bowl of cereal halfway to his mouth, distracted by the drama on the small laptop screen. He had traded his armour for a pair of Jaskier's tracksuit pants and nothing else. He looked up when Jaskier stepped out and crinkled his nose.  </p>
<p>"I can smell your cologne from here. It's disgusting."</p>
<p>"To a human, it's subtle and alluring," Jaskier said. He turned on the spot and twisted, admiring his own ass in the mirror. He glanced up and saw Geralt staring at the exact same place in the mirror. He grinned, stretched, then turned back to face him. By the time Jaskier turned back, Geralt's eyes were back on his face. Jaskier winked at him.  </p>
<p>"This is the part where you compliment me, Geralt."</p>
<p>"You know modern fashion better than me," Geralt said.  </p>
<p>"Then comment on me, not the clothes," Jaskier said. He shifted his weight to one foot and cocked his hip out to one side.  He noticed Geralt's eyes flicker over his body. When they made eye contact again, he winked.   </p>
<p>"Compliments usually involve words, but I'll take it," he said. He took a moment to grab his things and swaggered out the door. Even if the night was as boring as expected, he at least had enjoyed being ogled by his witcher. He left Geralt as he had found him,  reality TV and cereal and all.  </p>
<p>The cocktail bar his parents had booked out was on the top floor of the tallest skyscraper in the business district. His sister fell upon him as soon as he stepped into the room and dragged him over to the bar.  </p>
<p>"Thank the Gods, I'm going insane. If one more of Dad's friends comments on how I'm blossoming into a fine young woman, I might jump out the window."</p>
<p>"Push them instead. I'll help," Jaskier said. Priscilla laughed and thanked him by shoving a fancy cocktail into his hand. He stayed by her side for thirty minutes, chasing off various men and playing the role of protective older brother until she found a conversation partner she actually liked. Satisfied, Jaskier scanned the room for a target of his own. His eyes settled on a woman skilfully dodging advances from man after man and grinned. If he could not talk his way into her bed, he could at least make a point by being the one to make her laugh. He spent the next three hours flirting with different men and women. He flitted from group to group, chasing drinks and compliments and any other entertainment he could find.  </p>
<p>Around midnight, he decided he had found his partner for the night. He could not remember her name, but he knew she liked poetry and had a dry wit and a love of mischief. He leaned in to murmur in her ear. Taking her home wasn't an option, but he could afford a hotel room for one night. As he leaned in, he glanced around them, making sure they were alone, and locked eyes with the most beautiful woman in the world.  </p>
<p>For a moment Jaskier could only stare, mouth agape. Until that moment, he realized, he had never known what beauty was, having seen only pale imitations. Now he knew. Beauty was raven locks tumbling down in loose curls. Beauty wore black with daring slits to show smooth, flawless brown skin. Beauty had violet eyes that stared into his own. They widened slightly, then narrowed, and beauty beckoned him closer. Jaskier obeyed, transfixed. He abandoned his partner and dropped his crystal champagne flute. The glass shattered against the ground, but he did not even blink at the sound. A dozen different poems dedicated to the woman clamoured for his attention, but he knew what even if he dedicated a thousand years to the task, he would never come close to portraying her beauty. His hands itched for his lute. The feeling was so intense he actually glanced down, breaking eye contact with the mysterious woman. His silver ring hummed. As he advanced, the vibration grew stronger until it seemed to suffuse his whole hand. It was a guide, he thought, leading him to his destiny.  </p>
<p>Once he was close, the woman turned and beckoned him onwards. Jaskier followed, deaf and blind to the world around him. To his delight, she stepped into a private room. He stepped in after her.  </p>
<p>"Never have –" Jaskier started, but he got no further. As soon a the door was shut behind him, she surged forward and pressed him against it, pinning him in place with her body. Heat surged through him. If that was the way she wanted things to go, he would not complain.  </p>
<p>"What are you?" she hissed. The sound was full of venomous fury, and for the first time, he felt a drop of fear. That was when he noticed the knife she had pressed against his neck. The drop turned into a deluge, and he gulped. Trying to show he was harmless, he lifted his arms so his palms faced outwards in a gesture of surrender. Stuttering, he said,</p>
<p>"I'm just a student,  I--"</p>
<p>"Don't play dumb with me," she snarled. Apparently, he was dumb, because Jaskier could not divine her meaning. But after a second, she glanced down at the knife and frowned. "You're not reacting."</p>
<p>"I assure you, I am having quite the reaction to having a knife at my neck," Jaskier said, proud that his voice cracked only once on the words. Instead of appeasing her, his words triggered a flash of rage in her eyes. She dug the knife a little deeper with a snarl.  </p>
<p>"Drop it."</p>
<p>"Drop what? I'm not holding anything."</p>
<p>"It," she said, her voice thick with rage and disgust. "What do you aim to get out of this? You haven't fooled me, and if you even try to go near the others -"</p>
<p>"Others?"</p>
<p>Her eyes narrowed further. "If you go within a hundred leagues of Geralt of Rivia, I will turn every organ in your body inside out and leave you hanging from a pike."</p>
<p>The threat should have terrified him, but there was a silver lining. He grasped at it like a drowning man at a rope.  </p>
<p>"You know Geralt?"</p>
<p>The woman tilted her head slightly to one side, staring him in the eyes. Whatever she saw there did not please her. She reached out with one arm and traced a circle in the air, chanting in Elder. Jaskier let out a little whimper of fear. His odds of surviving an ordinary murderous woman were slim; if she was a mage, he was as good as dead.  </p>
<p>"One wrong move, and I will kill you," she warned. The knife disappeared from his neck. He did not see where it went, too busy taking deep, gulping breaths of air and grasping at his own neck. His legs shook. He was not entirely sure he could keep himself upright, but before he could collapse, the woman grabbed his ear and stepped through the portal. Jaskier had no choice but to follow.  </p>
<p>"Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow, that hurts!" Jaskier whined. He heard something hit the ground.  </p>
<p>"Yen? What – Jaskier?"</p>
<p>Never before had Jaskier been so grateful to hear Geralt's voice. His knees went weak. The grip on his ear vanished and he collapsed. He tried to stand, but his knees would not take his weight. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat, hammering out a rapid rhythm. In a blind panic, he crawled towards Geralt. He did not stop until the hem of his own tracksuit pants came into view. Geralt stepped forward, and Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped between Jaskier and the woman. If anyone could protect him, it was Geralt. He pressed his cheek against the back of Geralt’s thigh, taking comfort in the firm bulk of muscle and the warmth radiating through the fabric of his pants. The frenzied hammering of his heart slowed from petrified to merely afraid, and for the first time, he began to hope he might escape.</p>
<p>"Geralt, you know that's not Dandelion," the woman said. The rage in her voice was replaced by something softer, something closer to pity. “It’s a convincing act, but you know better than that.”</p>
<p>"If you'd bothered to ask, you'd know my name is Jaskier,” Jaskier snapped. With Geralt's bulk between them, he felt a little of his usual self creeping back. Using Geralt to support his weight, he dragged himself to his feet and glared.  </p>
<p>"If you thought he meant to hurt me, you wouldn’t have brought him here,” Geralt reasoned. “You would have killed him on the spot.”</p>
<p>"I can't be sure. Part of him is locked away, I can’t access all his thoughts."</p>
<p>"Maybe that has something to do with the brain injury that gave me amnesia. I got hit by a car. You should try it some time,” Jaskier sneered. He then pinched Geralt’s bicep and added, “And you, Geralt, that comment was not reassuring! You're meant to be on my side!"</p>
<p>"It's magic," the woman said. Geralt frowned, glancing at Jaskier's face, then his left hand where it was clinging to his shoulder. The ring's frantic vibration had faded to a gentle, tingling hum.  </p>
<p>"It's powerful magic, Geralt, and very old. Older than me. More powerful than – Geralt, I can't even tell you what the magic is doing, let alone what kind of entity could produce it."</p>
<p>"I'm not surprised," Geralt said. "Medallion didn't react. Neither did his ring."</p>
<p>"My ring?" Jaskier asked. He lifted his hand. Across the room, there was a sharp intake of breath. Geralt reached up and touched the ring, so lightly Jaskier could scarcely feel the pressure.  </p>
<p>"I'd almost convinced myself it was an imitation," Geralt said quietly. His eyes were wide, and Jaskier could not read the expression on his face. It was somewhere began wonder and grief. He took Jaskier’s hand in his own as if it were something fragile and stared at it, blind to everything else in the room. His thumb ran lightly over the surface of the ring, swiping over the delicate engravings.  </p>
<p>"He doesn't remember where it came from. But he's attached," the woman said. Before Jaskier could wonder who she was talking about, Geralt said,</p>
<p>"Yen, stay out of his mind. He's allowed his secrets." </p>
<p>"He's dancing around pretending to be Dandelion. He has no rights."</p>
<p>"Yen, please," Geralt said, looking up from the ring for the first time. Jaskier furrowed his brow. That was the second time Geralt had used her name, but it was the first time Jaskier had been in any state to process it.  </p>
<p>"Wait. Yen? As in Yennefer? Your friend Yennefer? You do realise your friend held a knife to my throat, don't you?"</p>
<p>"A silver knife. He didn't burn," Yennefer chimed in.</p>
<p>"Of course he didn't," Geralt scoffed. Jaskier's head spun.  </p>
<p>"As delightful as this conversion is, can someone please explain what's going on?"</p>
<p>At Geralt's urging, Jaskier took a seat at the edge of the bed. Yennefer summoned a chair and sat opposite him, examining him like some kind of lab specimen. To Jaskier's relief, Geralt sat by his side. Whatever uncomfortable conversation they were about to have, at least he would have Geralt to comfort him (and, if all else failed, to hide behind).  </p>
<p>"Let's start at the beginning. Geralt, what can you tell us about Dandelion’s resting place? I know you visit it sometimes. Were there any signs of it being disturbed?”  </p>
<p>Geralt swallowed heavily. His hand clenched into a fist, so Jaskier reached out and took his hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb. As useless as it was, he glared at Yennefer. Bullying Jaskier had been one thing, but he was not sure he could ever forgive her for the pain her question had caused Geralt.  </p>
<p>“Yeah, I visited. Took him flowers, sometimes. I… sang. Sometimes. He would’ve wanted that, used to demand it if he was sick or injured. I went nearly every year, made it a stop on the road north for the winter. I’d have known if anyone else had visited. It was my first stop after getting back from Ofier. The damned university took everything while I was away and put signs up declaring it an archaeological research site. They even took the fucking flowers I'd left him.”</p>
<p>Tears began to trickle down Jaskier’s cheeks as he tried and failed to comprehend what Geralt had just said. Dandelion had been dead for centuries. And for every year in every one of those centuries, Geralt had visited his grave and mourned him, even as the rest of the world moved on and forgot. Geralt may not be able to weep, but Jaskier found himself crying for him. Even Yennefer seemed to be moved, leaning in and putting one gloved hand on Geralt’s cheek.</p>
<p>“I know it’s hard, Geralt, but I need to know how Dandelion died. What kind of condition was his body in?"</p>
<p>There was a silence. After a long moment, Geralt shook his head and hid his face in the crook of Jaskier’s shoulder. There were no tears, but Jaskier could feel the slight shudder that came with each overwhelmed exhale.   </p>
<p>"Yen, I can’t. Don’t make me say it."</p>
<p>“I won’t. Just show me,” Yennefer murmured. Before Jaskier could figure out what he meant, her eyes widened slightly. She leaned forward to touch Geralt, then paused, considering. Mind made up, she stood and reseated herself by Geralt’s side, wrapping her arms around his middle.   </p>
<p>“Oh, Geralt. Why didn’t you tell us? You told us he was dead, not that – “</p>
<p>"Not your problem. It’s my fault."</p>
<p>"It's not, Geralt, not based on the memories I saw. And I'm sure Dandelion would agree. He was always quick to forgive you for anything."</p>
<p>Geralt lifted his head and stared at her, flabbergasted. His arm tightened around Jaskier’s waist, pulling him closer. When he spoke, he sounded almost angry.  </p>
<p>"You can't believe that. You saw what they did to him. You heard him screaming for me, and I didn’t fucking get to him in time. He wouldn’t even have been there if not for me."</p>
<p>“I saw, and Geralt – ”</p>
<p>“They tore him to shreds,” Geralt snarled. The expression showed off his teeth, too sharp to be human. Heedless of the implicit threat, Yennefer put a hand on Geralt’s face and kissed him on the forehead, murmuring reassurances too soft for Jaskier to hear. Jaskier kept a hand on Geralt's shoulder, puzzling out what had been said. Yennefer, it seemed, could read minds. Whatever she had seen in Geralt's memories had shaken her, more than she had expected. It was not hard to piece together the rest.  </p>
<p>Jaskier had suspected for a long time that Geralt's husband had died on a contract, but he had never thought about what that meant. He took a moment to consider it. He could imagine all too clearly the feeling of claws ripping into his flesh, tearing his limbs from his body. His voice would turn hoarse and rough as he begged for Geralt to save him as he had done countless times before. And beneath the pain, there was fear, for himself and for Geralt. A shudder ran down his spine. Dandelion would have died in agony, knowing that either Geralt would die, or he would carry guilt for his death for the rest of his life. Jaskier could scarcely imagine a worse fate. Nevertheless, there was one thing he was certain of. He wasn’t sure if it would help, but given how guilty Geralt was, it couldn’t make things worse. He put an arm around Geralt’s shoulders and shifted closer until their hips bumped together.  </p>
<p>"I wouldn't blame you."</p>
<p>Once he had their attention, he continued, "If I died following you, I wouldn't blame you. I know you'd do everything you could to protect me. And I know you did everything you could to save him."</p>
<p>"Wasn't enough."</p>
<p>"That's not your fault, though. And I'm sure Dandelion would agree. He would have known what you were like. He would know you wanted to save him."</p>
<p>"But I didn't," Geralt said, his voice flat. "It doesn't matter what I wanted. I didn't."</p>
<p>"Then he'd forgive you. Just like I would."</p>
<p>Geralt stared at him for several seconds, his expression blank. The room was silent. Then, without a word, he buried his face back against Jaskier’s neck and made a small sound of distress. The arm around his waist pulled and he slipped into Geralt’s lap. He felt a small puff of air against the back of his neck and realized Geralt was sniffing him. He let out a tiny huff of amusement.  </p>
<p>"Oh, now I know you're upset. I remember what you said about my cologne."</p>
<p>"Smells like shit," Geralt mumbled. Jaskier smiled. When he risked a glance in her direction, he was surprised to find Yennefer's expression had softened. She was not smiling, but at least Jaskier no longer feared for his life.  She allowed them a few moments to relax as Geralt calmed himself, then spoke.</p>
<p>"As charming as this is, Geralt, you can cuddle your imposter later. I have questions. And I still haven't decided what to tell Mr Pankratz."</p>
<p>That caught Jaskier's attention. Warily, he asked, "What does my father have to do with this?"</p>
<p>"He hired me to save his son, who has apparently been enthralled by a witcher. I was curious," Yennefer said with a shrug. Geralt retreated a little from Jaskier, depositing him back on the bed with an almost sheepish expression. </p>
<p>"I didn't - " Geralt started, at the same time as Jaskier spat, </p>
<p>"Fucking Dad, of course he did."</p>
<p>"You realise he's likely not your father, don't you?" </p>
<p> She delivered the comment as though she was stating something obvious, but Jaskier felt as if the ground had been swept from under his feet. Not his father. It made a twisted sort of sense. If he was somehow connected to Dandelion, as seemed increasingly likely, he could not be Julian Pankratz. He thought of his mother, and how she'd cry. He thought of his father and his stern disapproval. It was not until he thought of his sister that he felt a stab of pain in his heart. He couldn't lose her. She was one of his closest friends. Even if they were not related by blood, she was his sister as far as he was concerned.  But would Priscilla feel the same? He pushed himself up on shaking legs and staggered towards the door.  </p>
<p>"I need a moment."</p>
<p>"Jaskier -"</p>
<p>Jaskier did not stop to listen to the rest of what Geralt had to say. Instead, he stumbled into the hallway and shut the door. He made it halfway down the stairs before he sank down and put his head in his hands. A sob built in his throat. Was he lying to his family? Did it count as lying if he didn't know? Did he trust Yennefer’s word enough to throw them away?  </p>
<p>With shaking hands, he pulled out his phone and called his sister. Priscilla answered on the second ring, frantic.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier? I've been looking everywhere for you. Dad's up to something, I heard him talking about you with a strange woman, she said she'd handle you. Are you okay?"</p>
<p>Priscilla's panic and obvious concern startled a shaky laugh out of Jaskier.  </p>
<p>"I'm… well, I'm home, and I'm not hurt," he said.  </p>
<p>"The woman -"</p>
<p>"Yennefer. I don't know who's side she's on, but it's not Dad's," Jaskier said. He considered trying to reassure Priscilla, maybe tell her that Yennefer wouldn’t hurt him, but he wasn’t entirely sure that was true. If he had met her before Geralt, he may not have survived the encounter.  As it was, he suspected he was safe only so long as she trusted he held no ill will towards Geralt.</p>
<p>"Jaskier, you don't sound good. What's wrong?"</p>
<p>Jaskier gathered his courage. "Yennefer -- the sorceress -- she's not sure I'm human. "</p>
<p>"Of course you're human. What else would you be?"</p>
<p>Jaskier shrugged before remembering that he was on the phone. "I don't know. I don't react to silver, so that rules most things out."</p>
<p>"Well, I think that witch needs to mind her own business. Tell her to fuck off. If she doesn't like that, she's going to have to deal with me."</p>
<p>The idea of Priscilla going up against Yennefer pulled another laugh from Jaskier. As powerful as Yennefer was, he wasn’t sure who he’d put his money on. Priscilla may be an ordinary human, but she could be fierce when she wanted to be. He felt a surge of affection for his sister.</p>
<p>"Priscilla? You're the best."</p>
<p>"I know. And as brothers go, you're pretty decent."</p>
<p>Jaskier laughed again. They spoke for a few more minutes before Priscilla excused herself to return to the party. Jaskier took a moment for himself. He rubbed his arms, took a deep breath, and got to his feet. When he returned to the bedroom, it was with his head held high.  </p>
<p>Geralt and Yennefer sat close together, their heads bowed as they spoke. Both of them looked up when he entered. After a moment, Geralt nudged the sorceress with his toe.</p>
<p>"Yen."</p>
<p>Yennefer sighed. "Geralt says I owe your an apology. I disagree."</p>
<p>"Yen," Geralt repeated, this time sounding almost pained. A crooked smile spread across Jaskier's face.  </p>
<p>"Maybe next time tone down the crazy? I appreciate that you were looking out for Geralt, but the knife was really a bit much."</p>
<p>"On the contrary, I was the model of restraint. Either you're something very old and powerful, or under the influence of something very old and powerful. Knowing what I know now, and having met Dandelion, I suspect the latter."</p>
<p>"So you're convinced I'm actually him and not just some duplicate."</p>
<p>"Either that, or you're a grave robber. That ring is unique. Even neglecting the design, the magic Geralt imbued it with is tied to a specific site."</p>
<p>"Geralt? What is she talking about?"</p>
<p>Geralt swallowed. He avoided eye contact with both of them as he spoke, instead staring at a spot a few inches to the left of Jaskier's head.  </p>
<p>"I bought it a few months before we handfasted. Got it made in Beauclair, then took it to the same place we attuned our medallions. It's a place of power in the Morhen Valley. Only witchers ever go there. It responds to magic the same way my medallion does and warns of danger. I gave it to Dandelion after the ceremony. He never took it off.”</p>
<p>Without thinking, Jaskier reached for the ring. He bit his lip. A good man, he thought would offer the ring back. It belonged to Geralt. But something in his heart twisted at the idea of removing the ring to his hand. The ring was precious to him. He could not say why, but the idea of removing the ring felt like cutting out his own heart. For Geralt, though, he would try. But when he moved to remove it, Geralt caught his hands in his own and held them.  </p>
<p>"Wait. Jaskier, listen to me. Until we know what's happening, you cannot remove that ring, for any reason."</p>
<p>"Why not?"</p>
<p>"Until we know what's happening, we can't discount the possibility that the ring is involved."</p>
<p>"Unlikely," Yennefer said, and Geralt sighed.  </p>
<p>"Nothing about this is likely, Yen. I'm not about to take risks with this. The price is too high."</p>
<p>"He gets like this, sometimes," Yennefer said. It took Jaskier a moment to realise she was addressing him. "If it's not too stifling, it's best to let it run its course."</p>
<p>"Yen," Geralt growled, and Jaskier chuckled.  </p>
<p>"It's alright. This isn't the first time I've seen him so protective."</p>
<p>"Jaskier," Geralt said this time, just as frustrated as the last. Jaskier smiled at him, looking as innocent as he could.  </p>
<p>"I didn't say I was complaining, did I?"</p>
<p>Geralt’s scowl softened into a smile. He released Jaskier's hands, and Jaskier gave into the temptation to fix a strand of Geralt's hair that had fallen in front of his face. Yennefer made a disgusted noise.  </p>
<p>"Sickening."</p>
<p>"Just because you don't understand how to have positive interactions with people doesn't mean we don't," Jaskier told her. There was a pause and for a moment he panicked that he'd overstepped, that Yennefer would turn him into a frog or a fly. But then she smiled, slow and deliberate.  </p>
<p>"Are you sure this is an argument you want to start? You're wearing a dead man's face and flirting with his husband."</p>
<p>"Yen, it's fine," Geralt said, but they both ignored him. Jaskier replied with a sharp and vicious insult, and she responded in kind. Every now and then, Geralt intervened with a plea for them to get along.  Both of them ignored him. This was not a fight, Jaskier was certain. It was a test. Indeed, after several minutes, Yennefer blessed him with a smile and a soft laugh.</p>
<p>"No wonder Geralt likes you. He always did like those cleverer than himself."</p>
<p>"Last night Jaskier ate an entire bowl of raw cake batter and wondered why he was sick after," Geralt said. Wincing, Jaskier covered his mouth with one hand before he could spill any more embarrassing secrets.  </p>
<p>"I have no idea what he's talking about."</p>
<p>"Oh, I never said you had any sense, " Yennefer said with a laugh. "You argued with me, you're trailing after Geralt like a lost puppy, and you're dressed like a fourteen-year-old who just discovered the bargain bin at the op shop. It’s a miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed already. But you're clever enough to be interesting."</p>
<p>After a moment of consideration, Jaskier said,  "You know what? I'll take it."</p>
<p>"Clever boy," Yennefer said, and got to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, I need to deal with your father. Oh, and I want brunch on Sunday. Make sure Geralt wears something nice."</p>
<p>Geralt tugged on Jaskier's elbow to free his mouth. "Why is that his job?"</p>
<p>"Because somehow a man who dresses like a colourblind clown has better fashion sense than you," she said. She waved her hand in a large circle. Reality itself twisted and bent to form a portal, which she promptly stepped through and closed behind her.  Jaskier stared at the space where she had been.</p>
<p>"So. That was Yennefer."</p>
<p>"That was Yen," Geralt sighed. He rubbed his face with one hand. "Didn't expect her to ruin your night."</p>
<p>"It doesn't have to be ruined," Jaskier said. He shrugged off his jacket and shifted into the bed. "If you share your snacks, I'll forgive you. What are we watching?"</p>
<p>It was not the night he had expected, but as Geralt settled in beside him and restarted his show, Jaskier couldn't think of anywhere he would rather be. He fell asleep there, leaning against Geralt. At some point, Geralt tried to pull away, but Jaskier whined and grabbed at him. He was comfortable like this and had no intention of letting his living pillow leave. To his delight, his whining worked. Geralt settled down beside him to sleep.  Triumphant, Jaskier tried to pull him in to cuddle, eager for as much contact as possible. Geralt was big enough that he didn't move, and Jaskier wound up using him as a lever to pull himself in against Geralt.  </p>
<p>"Perfect," he mumbled, and fell back asleep.</p>
<p>He woke the next morning plastered to Geralt's chest. One of Geralt's arms wrapped around his middle, pinning him in place. Jaskier yawned, blinking his eyes open with a smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Relationships</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Ikea was a nightmare.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There were three problems. The first was a complaint anyone might have made: there were simply too many people. It seemed as if all of Oxenfurt had chosen that Saturday as the day to go to Ikea, and woe betide anyone who got between the mother of three and the last Farvlov.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Worse, Jaskier had underestimated how badly the general public would respond to Geralt. In Toussaint, he had been a local legend and people had recognised him as such, smiling at him even if all they knew was the odd story or two from childhood. Here, people saw only his golden eyes and white hair. A precious few noticed the muscles and ogled as shamelessly as Jaskier did, but most did not. When at a distance, they stared. When close, they scrambled away or spat insults at him. The first time it happened, Geralt had to grab Jaskier's arm to hold him back from a fight.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, Jaskier."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He called you a freak! You can ignore it if you want, but I won't."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I want you to ignore it. It happens," Geralt said. Jaskier huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the man responsible for the comment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're lucky he's a better man than I am," Jaskier said before he let Geralt drag him away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The final problem was Geralt himself. From the moment they stepped into Ikea, his face pinched together in confusion. For the first few minutes, he was silent, following Jaskier as he pranced around the store. It was not until Jaskier darted off into one of the display rooms that he made a sound of protest. When Jaskier looked back, he had a panicked look on his face. Grinning, Jaskier threw a pillow at his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You'd think you'd never been furniture shopping before."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt caught the pillow and stared at it for a few seconds. "I haven't."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaskier's jaw dropped. "Bullshit. I saw your house."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The majordomo managed everything, I just gave him the money. Anything that broke I just asked the locals to replace. This – Jaskier, why does it look like someone's house?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So you can see what the furniture looks like in practice, obviously," Jaskier said. Geralt looked at him, baffled. With a smile on his face, Jaskier walked over and put a hand on his bicep. He used the touch to steer Geralt into the display room. There he started to point out things he thought would suit their new home. Geralt looked around. The baffled, unhappy look on his face had not faded. Jaskier was about to ask him why, but something made him stop and think. If Geralt was used to handmade furniture that lasted hundreds of years, he was undoubtedly out of his depth.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's not as fancy as you're used to, but it's more affordable. You'll get maybe a decade out of it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's not long," Geralt said, his brow furrowing in confusion. "How long do humans live? A century?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Eighty is a pretty good run," Jaskier said with a shrug. He turned to examine a plastic pot plant. In the reflection of the television, he saw Geralt's eyes widen in horror.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And you're...?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"23."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He did not turn around, but he watched Geralt's reaction in the mirror. He looked as if he had been hit. He stared at Jaskier and sank without a word onto the display bed behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"23. We've only got sixty years?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Or, from my perspective, we've got sixty years," Jaskier said, trying to cheer him up. It did not work. He shook his head and stared at the ground, devastated. After a few moments, his head shot up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yen can fix this. She has to."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Wow, okay, let's slow this down. Fix this? Geralt, surely you've had human friends before. This can't be news."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt hung his head and muttered, "It's been a while."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I never would have guessed," Jaskier said. He made his way over to Geralt and put a hand on his shoulder. "Humans age, Geralt. We get old and wrinkly and our hair goes grey and then we die. It's natural."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt's shoulders slumped. After a few moments of sitting there despairing, he straightened a little. Still staring at the ground, he asked, "When? When does it all happen?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hm," Jaskier said. "Well, I have a spectacular skincare routine, so you probably won't notice for at least a decade. And hair doesn't start to grey until you're forty, at least."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt frowned. He looked up at Jaskier and stared at his face, searching for something.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That can't be right."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh? And you're an expert on humans, are you?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dandelion and I were together for sixty years," he said. "And he -- there wasn't a single grey hair. His skin was smooth. For a while his eyes had some lines, but that disappeared, so I put it down to stress. And everything still -- hormones change. An old man smells different to a young man. He didn't smell old."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, then," Jaskier said. "He wasn't human. Or he could have been under some spell, but he was whatever he was, he was not ordinary."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt stared at him. After a few moments, it occurred to Jaskier that Ikea probably wasn't the best place to turn Geralt's world upside down. He said down beside him and patted his hand lightly. For several seconds, Geralt sat as still as a statue. Then he got to his feet with a look of renewed determination.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There are ways. I won’t let you die. I'll find them."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Right now, we're trying to find you a bed. We can deal with my mortality at home," Jaskier said, poking Geralt in the ribs. Geralt squirmed, and when Jaskier tried to do it again, he caught his wrist. Jaskier grinned at him, unrepentant. The grip around Jaskier's wrist loosened and some of the tension eased out of Geralt's expression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They spent the next four hours traipsing through Ikea. Jaskier flitted from display to display, pulling Geralt after him the entire time. He insisted on trying every couch in the shop. He admired himself in every mirror and felt the cover of every pillow they passed. When passing through the children's section, Jaskier delighted in the wide array of toys. He picked up a puppet and used it to talk to Geralt, showering him with compliments and flirting shamelessly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"A young man like you shouldn't be fooling around with a monster," a passing woman hissed. Jaskier, drawing on his superior intellect and education, used the puppet to tell her to fuck off. When Geralt chastised him, he gave Geralt his most pathetic, innocent expression and said</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It wasn't me, it was the puppet!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"She had a point."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, no, she did not!" Jaskier said, crossing his arms over his chest. "You are not a monster."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Even if that were true, I'm old, Jaskier," he said and began to walk away. Jaskier discarded the puppet and followed him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Believe me, Geralt, I’d noticed you're old as balls. It's a side effect of being immortal, from what I've heard," he said. When Geralt did not respond, he nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. When that failed, he stepped in front of him and blocked his path, trapping him between the kitchenware and the candles. When it became clear Jaskier was not going to budge, Geralt sighed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You're barely twenty. I shouldn't want -- you're so <i>young</i>."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh," Jaskier said, and grinned. "If you're that concerned with robbing the cradle, you could at least do the robbing first."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Rob the cradle?" Geralt echoed, baffled. His brow pinched in confusion and Jaskier threw caution to the wind, saying,</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"A term for someone old dating someone young. Of course, for that to hold, one of us would have to make a move."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaskier stared Geralt down. This was, he knew, the worst possible timing. Geralt was worried about his mortality, conflicted about Dandelion, and tormented by guilt. They needed to talk. Ideally, the talk would include some careful seduction, somewhere romantic. They could take their time running through the issues until Geralt at last conceded Jaskier was right. But it was too late for that. Jaskier had shown his cards in a fit of pique in the middle of Ikea and all he could do was make the best of it. He stepped forward and pressed his body against Geralt's, setting his hands on his waist. His heart hammered in his chest. He tilted his head up towards Geralt wearing his most seductive look and tried not to think about the horrors fluorescent lighting would be working on his complexion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We could break the new bed in, if you wanted."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The silence ought to have been intimidating, but Jaskier knew Geralt well enough to read the small signs. His eyes were wide with disbelief, his brow furrowed. His gaze flicked from his eyes to his mouth, where it gratifyingly lingered for several seconds before returning to his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Bad timing, I know, " Jaskier said after several seconds. "But at least give me a hint."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"A hint," Geralt said, and his lips curled into a smirk. He shifted his weight slightly to one side and looked Jaskier up and down.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"In my day, we had standards for this kind of thing. Asking to fuck in a furniture shop doesn't exactly meet them. Maybe I should -- "</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a spark of mischief in his eyes, and Jaskier recognised the smile on his face as the one that accompanied the very worst of his jokes. Still, for a few moments, Jaskier could only gape. When he pulled himself together, he shoved a finger under Geralt's nose and talked over him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Listen to me, you ancient, useless fuck," he seethed. "You want romance? Fine. Next Saturday night. I am going to woo you within an inch of your life. You are going to fucking drown on shitty heart-shaped candy, and when you do, I want you to remember you brought this upon yourself."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Jaskier," Geralt said. He sounded nervous, Jaskier thought, and the idea pleased him. Geralt should be nervous. He turned away and marched in the direction of the market hall.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Keep up! And get a trolley, we're going to need one. I'm going to need a lot of candles. You're paying."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt tried several more times to get Jaskier to talk, but every time he did, he changed the topic. After the eighth try, Geralt got the hint. He would have to wait for Jaskier to act.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As badly as Jaskier wanted to jump into his challenge, they had work to do first. They loaded Geralt's van with an entire household of furnishings from Ikea, then stacked the various packets in the living area. Then came the arduous task of assembly. They started in Geralt's bedroom. They managed to last until four o'clock before they started drinking. By the time they ordered dinner, Geralt had not just a bed, but a small wardrobe and a desk. They celebrated with pizza and beer, then spent the night trading stories.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Just as Jaskier started to prepare for bed, his phone rang. He went to reject the call, then hesitated. It was his father's number. He considered hanging up just to be petty, but in the end, his curiosity won out. He wondered what his father could have to say for himself after hiring Yennefer to fix him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dad?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Julian. How are you feeling?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, we're back to Julian, are we?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Jaskier, then,” he said, his voice dripping with disapproval. “I didn't get a chance to talk to you last night. How did you find it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The wine was excellent," Jaskier said, and left it at that. There was an uncomfortable pause. Jaskier revelled in it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I heard rumours you left with someone."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are you really asking about my sex life?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm asking about Yennefer-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, you mean Yen," Jaskier said, fluttering his eyelashes and pressing a hand to his chest. If he was going to make his father uncomfortable, he might as well commit to the act. Across the room, he saw Geralt scowl.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dear Yen. I knew the moment I saw her, you know."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Knew?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"She took my heart hostage. A knife against my throat couldn't compel me to speak ill of her. I feel like a moth drawn to the flame, and if she decides my fate is to burn, I will do so gladly if it pleases her."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He maintained eye contact with Geralt the entire time, unable to keep a mischievous grin from his face. His expression shifted to one of rapturous pleasure at the mention of burning for her. He then ducked, as Geralt threw an empty beer can at his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You, uh -"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"She's taking me to brunch tomorrow, " Jaskier continued, dreamily. "I wonder if she'll let me pull out her chair for her."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You sound different, son."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Of course I do. Who could meet such a beautiful, powerful sorceress and not be bewitched?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I need to make some calls," his father said, and hung up. Jaskier fell apart laughing. He ended up sprawled on his back, grasping at his stomach. Geralt scowled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yen is going to kill you for that."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, hush. I'm sure Yennefer can take a joke."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mm. You want that degree, you'd better graduate tonight. And you said something earlier about teaching me about romance. Can’t do that when you’re dead."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm not going to do that on demand! I have plans. You wanted to do it right, so we're having a proper date. You're going to be wooed, Geralt, and you are going to like it. You’re just jealous."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt shook his head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Yennefer could not take a joke. When Jaskier bounced downstairs in his favourite outfit the next morning, she sent him a withering look that sent a shiver down his spine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Geralt, are gorgons real? Because if any look could turn a man to stone, that would be it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Here I thought you'd be used to it, pet," Yennefer cooed. Spluttering, Jaskier protested the nickname. He cast a desperate glance for help to Geralt, who shook his head. Jaskier was on his own. He backed away as Yennefer advanced with a venomous smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"After all, you were so eager to tell your father how happy we are together."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaskier's back hit the wall. He held his hands in front of his chest protectively. "Actually, I think you'll find I never said anything of the sort. I implied, but -"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His words broke off into a garbled, choking sound when Yennefer grasped his chin with one manicured hand. To his horror, Jaskier felt himself flush, and tried very hard to avoid staring at anything below Yennefer's eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Listen to me, you wretched little creature. If not for Geralt, I'd turn you into a rabbit and donate you to the local racetrack. As it is, I'm going to use you to get what I want in Oxenfurt, and you're going to play along. Do you understand me?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Urghk," said Jaskier intelligently. His body flushed hot and cold. He could not seem to decide if the threats were attractive or terrifying, so he settled on both. He nodded to show his compliance. After a few moments, Yennefer released him and stepped back. She opened a portal with a gesture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Come. I've been meaning to try this place for a while."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She stepped through the portal, not so much as glancing behind her. Jaskier leaned against the wall, his chest heaving. When he made eye contact with Geralt, the witcher smirked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You got off lightly," Geralt told him. He then looked at the portal and sighed. "We'd better follow."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Geralt stepped through the portal, leaving Jaskier alone. He considered running, before concluding Yennefer and Geralt would track him down. He stepped through the portal into bright sunshine. He blinked a few times, startled by the bright light when he could have sworn it was cloudy. As he looked around he began to realise why. The massive cathedral looming overhead did not belong to Oxenfurt, but Novigrad. Jaskier gaped.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Did you really portal us to a different city for brunch?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yennefer looked at Geralt. "Is this what he does? Just follow you around and make inane observations?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sometimes he sings."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Geralt!" Jaskier protested.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You always did have a soft spot for music," Yennefer said.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Yennefer led them to a cafe a short distance from where they had arrived. A table for three had been set in the sunshine, separated from the rest of the diners by boxes of flowers. As soon as Yennefer sat, waiters emerged from the kitchen. The table was soon laden with coffee, tropical fruits and sweet pastries. Yennefer picked up a mimosa in a crystal champagne flute and took a delicate sip. Unsure of what to do, Jaskier stared at the spread. Beside him, Geralt was tucking in with enthusiasm. After a hesitant glance at Yennefer, Jaskier decided to risk a small mango cake. The sweet fruit burst across his lips, and he faced no immediate reprisal for his decision.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The good news for both of you is that I have decided to remain in Oxenfurt for a time."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, simply wonderful," Jaskier muttered. Yennefer flicked a finger at him, and a sharp burst of electricity arced from her fingers and rapped Jaskier across the knuckles.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Behave, or I will make this very uncomfortable."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yen -"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hush, Geralt. I trained your last husband to hold his tongue. I'll train this one, too."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You didn't train – " Geralt started, but then he trailed off and stared at his coffee. "Fuck."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"While you were training Ciri at Kaer Morhen, I was making sure your idiot husband didn't get himself killed. Part of that was making sure he was tolerable enough that I would not be tempted myself."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You never told me," Geralt said, reproach in his voice. Yennefer was unaffected.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It was none of your concern. You should be thanking me. If he hadn't been your friend, I might have killed him much earlier. He was annoying at the best of times, and watching him harass every poor woman he came across was tiresome.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Harrass?” Jaskier squawked. Yennefer raised an eyebrow. She spent the next few moments outlining Dandelion’s sins, sparing no thought for the comfort of her companions. Geralt winced at every story, and Jaskier grew more and more horrified. He spluttered and protested and stared at Yennefer in dismayed disbelief.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Fuck,” he said, running a hand through his hair. He’d always admired Dandelion, to say nothing of Geralt’s suspicion that he <i>was</i> Dandelion. “I know it was seven hundred years ago, but fuck. That’s a lot.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He turned on Geralt, poking him in the arm. “And you! You should have done something to him, I know you know better than to act like that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The answering mumble was too quiet for Jaskier to hear. Yennefer tutted and shook her head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You won’t get a sensible answer out of him. I never did.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jaskie let out a sigh. He reached a hand under the table and squeezed Geralt’s knee, silently reassuring him that he was not terribly angry. He then leaned in across the table toward Yennefer and said,</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“If he won’t share, I’m sure you’ll be willing to share other things. Forget Dandelion for now. You've known Geralt for a long time. I want to know everything."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Everything?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“The embarrassing things, of course, ” Jaskier said, with a conspiratorial wink. "Seven hundred years is a long time to be stupid."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There was a pause as Yennefer examined him, considering. Then she smiled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I took him to a friend's wedding, once, back in 1632,” Yennefer said. Geralt groaned and hung his head. They passed the better part of an hour swapping gossip about Geralt, their earlier enmity forgotten. They would no doubt bicker later, but for now, they were united in a common goal: embarrassing Geralt.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night, Jaskier was plagued by nightmares. Time and time again, he found himself acting inappropriately, leering at women, pushing boundaries, and taking shameless advantage wherever he could. Worse, he could not stop. His body seemed to act on autopilot, playing out scene after scene. At two AM, he gave up. Disgusted with himself, he got out of bed and turned on his laptop, deciding to make the most of his insomnia.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Love</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for the slightly short chapter, but it's all I can manage right now. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you all for the comments so far &lt;3</p>
<p>content warnings: some sexual content at the end of the chapter, nothing super explicit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Exhausted did not begin to explain how Jaskier felt the next day. He got up two hours later than usual, but that did not make up for the hours lost to nightmares. By the time he was awake, Geralt had left for the day, so he had no one to complain to. He settled for glaring at the fridge as he drank twice his usual amount of coffee. He stomped into his office around midday. His office-mate Markus started when he came in. After looking Jaskier over, he bit his lip and looked at Jaskier with pity.  </p>
<p>"I heard the news. It's tough."</p>
<p>"What news?" Jaskier snapped. He put his things down with a thud. When he turned to glare at Markus, the look of pity had only intensified.  </p>
<p>"You should talk to Kat."</p>
<p>"Why?" Jaskier asked, but he got no answer. Anxiety gnawing in his gut, he ventured down the hall to his supervisor's office. Her door was shut. For a few moments, he debated whether or not he should leave, but curiosity won out. He knocked and called through the door.</p>
<p>The door opened almost immediately. To his astonishment, Kat's eyes were red and her face blotchy from crying. She beckoned him into the office. He removed the stack of papers on the chair opposite her desk and sat down gingerly, bracing himself for disaster.</p>
<p>"It's awful news, simply awful."</p>
<p>"What's awful news?"</p>
<p>A box of tissues sat on the desk. Kat pushed them across to him and said,  </p>
<p>“It's gone. All of it.”</p>
<p>"All of what?"</p>
<p>"Everything we found with Dandelion. His lute. His diary," Kat said, her voice flat and hollow. "All of it, Jaskier."</p>
<p>Jaskier opened and closed his mouth several times. Worry and pity and rage all battled within him, each accompanied by a dozen different questions. When he finally spoke, all he managed to get out was a stuttered "how?"</p>
<p>Muttering to herself, Kat began to tap on her keyboard. After a few moments, she turned the computer screen around. Jaskier squinted. The screen showed a long chain of emails of academics and lawyers arguing back and forth. From what Jaskier could tell, they were arguing over the authenticity and legal power of an old document. It was not until he saw the document himself that Jaskier understood, his head spinning as he stared at the signatures. It was a marriage certificate. As ancient and faded as the document was, it plainly declared the formal marriage of Geralt of Rivia and Dandelion, signed by a priestess of Melitile hundreds of years ago. The dizziness grew, and Jaskier put his head on the desk. He cushioned his forehead against his arms and waited for the spell to pass.  </p>
<p>"I know," Kat said sympathetically. "I had the same reaction. But the Nilfgaardians are adamant it's legally binding, and that makes the witcher his next of kin. We can't stop him."</p>
<p>A twinge of guilt made Jaskier wince, and he was very glad his expression was hidden. He was, after all, the reason Geralt knew Dandelion's things were there. Without him, his belongings would have stayed in a museum. The guilt faded as the thought crystallised in his mind and he realized that despite his initial reaction, this was the correct outcome. The university would suffer, but the goods belonged with Geralt. Once his head stopped spinning, Jaskier lifted his head.  </p>
<p>"We shouldn't stop him. Kat, we're talking about keeping a man's belongings from his widow. That's wrong."</p>
<p>"It's been over seven centuries – "</p>
<p>"So? Geralt's still alive.  He still misses him. If we want to claim we have any respect for Dandelion, we ought to respect the man he married. What happened to ‘what’s mine is yours’?"</p>
<p>There was a long silence after he spoke. Jaskier stared his supervisor down,  not a hint of uncertainty in his expression. After several seconds, Kat looked away.  </p>
<p>"Even if they were married, it's not like we knew."</p>
<p>"You know now."</p>
<p>Kat sighed, putting her head in her hands. "We've been fighting for months. I didn't even believe the certificate was real."</p>
<p>"You should have. Geralt wouldn't lie about this," Jaskier shook his head. Kat looked up and narrowed her eyes.  </p>
<p>"You're in contact with the witcher, aren't you?"</p>
<p>"He's..." Jaskier hesitated. His housemate? True, but a criminal understatement. Friend? Undoubtedly, but both of them wanted more than that. Jaskier was just waiting for the opportunity to make his move. And that was without bringing in the tangled mess of Jaskier’s mysterious past. He grimaced, then waved his hand vaguely in the air and shrugged. For all he had built his life around words, he could not find the word for what Geralt was to him. He could not imagine living in a world without him.</p>
<p>"Did you know he was trying to get Dandelion's things?"</p>
<p>Jaskier considered the question. "No, but in retrospect, I may be an idiot."</p>
<p>Kat snorted. "You know I won't stand for that sort of talk, Jaskier. You wouldn't be here if you were an idiot."</p>
<p>There was a pause as Jaskier took the opportunity to glow under the praise, but he could not shake the nagging feeling that he had misled her. "In contact" made it sound like they talked occasionally. He was fairly sure it didn't encompass friendship, nor any of the other feelings he harboured for Geralt. He attempted to explain himself.</p>
<p>“I should have known, though. I saw how upset he was when he learnt Dandelion’s lute was in a museum. If I’d realized, I could have helped him, smoothed things over.”</p>
<p>“You’re close,” Kat realized, and Jaskier nodded. She hesitated for a second, then sighed. “Jaskier, I try to stay out of my student’s personal lives. It’s not my business. But, well, I don’t want to see you hurt. The witcher doesn’t seem to have processed Dandelion’s loss, and you – well, you bear more than a passing resemblance to him.”</p>
<p>“That’s putting it mildly,” Jaskier snorted. “I’ve seen the paintings.”</p>
<p>Though even without the paintings, Geralt’s reaction said everything. There were still moments when Jaskier’s mind lingered on how he had looked the very first time he had burst into Jaskier’s office, eyes wide with disbelief. Since then, Geralt had done a marvellous job at keeping them separate. When not affected by witcher potions, he never once used the wrong name, and he had been surprised when Jaskier had expressed romantic interest in him. It was part of what Jaskier loved about him. Whatever feelings Geralt harboured, he recognized how important Jaskier’s identity was to him and respected that. He treated Jaskier as more than the ghost of his husband.</p>
<p>“Has he commented on it?” Kat wanted to know. Jaskier squinted at her. He took in the slight furrow in her brow, the soft concern in her voice, the soothing little smile. After a moment, he started to laugh.</p>
<p>“Oh, gods. You think he’s – collecting me, or something?”</p>
<p>“He could be confused – “</p>
<p>“He’s a witcher, it’s not like he can get dementia, he knows exactly who I am – “</p>
<p>“If he thinks you’re Dandelion, you could be in danger.”</p>
<p>The words made so little sense that Jaskier stopped laughing. He stared at Kat, his entire expression passing through several different confused grimaces as he tried to figure out what kind of threat Geralt could possibly pose. When he realized, his eyes narrowed. He put his hands on the desk and stood up, glaring at his supervisor.</p>
<p>“Kat, I don’t want to throw this PhD down the drain. But you’re giving me strong personal and professional reasons to do so,” he said, his voice as low and menacing as he could make it. He started to pace back and forth, gesturing as his voice rose and fell in pitch and volume to add drama and emphasis to his speech. If he was about to get kicked out of university, he was damn well going to go out with style.  </p>
<p>“On a professional side, your beliefs indicate a profound misunderstanding of primary sources. You know Dandelion’s music. You’ve read his journal and his letters. And yet, despite the resounding evidence to the contrary, you’ve somehow concluded Geralt could hurt me, let alone the idea that he could have hurt <i>Dandelion</i>. It makes me question your reading comprehension, let alone your academic reasoning, and – “</p>
<p>Jaskier cut himself off. He turned on the spot and stared at her with his mouth hanging open slightly. “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s all academic. You had a semi-mythical figure march into your office and yell at you for grave-robbing, and you don’t know what to do with that. You’re afraid.”</p>
<p>“If I am, it’s perfectly reasonable,” Kat said stiffly. Jaskier shook his head, walking back over to the desk and putting both his hands on it, leaning forward.</p>
<p>“Kat, think for a second. Pretend you never met him. All you know is every word Dandelion ever wrote about him. Do you really think he could ever have hurt him? That he could hurt me?” Jaskier asked. He waited until he saw a flash of hesitation cross Kat’s face, and he tilted his head towards her bookshelf, filled with leather-bound copies of Dandelion’s work.</p>
<p>“He wouldn’t. But you would find it plausible that he would care about someone robbing Dandelion’s grave?”</p>
<p>“We didn’t - “</p>
<p>“You did,” Jaskier said, as gently as he could. He was surprised to find anger simmering just beneath the surface at the theft and the pain it had caused. “You didn’t mean to, but you did. You told me once there were dried flowers around the cairn. Didn’t anyone wonder how they got there?”</p>
<p>Kat sighed, pushing one hand through her hair and staring at the wall behind Jaskier. “Fuck.”</p>
<p>“Yup,” Jaskier said, popping the ‘p’ just to be annoying. Kat sighed again, looking at him and then looking away.  </p>
<p>“We looked after him,” she said, as if defending herself to Jaskier could somehow erase the mistakes. “You know what the lab team are like. I’ve never seen them so frantic. They spent hours sterilizing the environment, controlling the temperature, making sure he wouldn’t decay. Adelaide spent three hours by the cadaver just talking to him. Sam rigged up the speakers to play recordings of his old music so he wouldn’t be alone.”</p>
<p>“You lost him,” Jaskier pointed out. Kat nodded in agreement, misery written into every line of her face. Jaskier felt a twinge of guilt in his chest. The fury he felt on Geralt’s behalf was justified, but he did not doubt for a second that his academic colleagues had had only the best intentions. He backed off on his complaints. Slowly, he steered the conversation back towards academic matters, and they ended the meeting on a positive note.  </p>
<p>When he returned home, he found Geralt sitting at the dining table. The lute lay in the centre of the table, where Geralt rested one hand lightly on it. His eyes ran up and down the lute repeatedly as if memorizing the sight of it.  </p>
<p>"They tried to tell me how to take care of it," he said, skipping right past any pleasantries. "As if I didn't have to put up with Dandelion complaining every time it rained. I know how to take care of a damn lute."</p>
<p>"They had it in a climate-controlled case at the museum. They took care of it, too."</p>
<p>"So they told me," Geralt said. He continued to stare at the lute, his expression closed off and unreadable. After a long pause, he said, "I miss him."</p>
<p>"Tell me about him."</p>
<p>Geralt hesitated for a moment. Then the stories came, word by painful word as Geralt bared his heart. Geralt was not a gifted storyteller, but that did not stop him from trying. He told Jaskier not about the famous poet and troubadour, but about a loyal friend and travelling companion. He told him about how Dandelion had absolutely no skills for living on the road, whether hunting or foraging or first aid. After over a decade on the road with Geralt, he had learnt very little. He could bandage a wound, but if stitches were called for, he would faint. He could cook if given ingredients but refused to learn how to skin a rabbit. He could not fight, and he had an unparalleled knack for making bad decisions. He was the most useless companion one could have asked for, and Geralt had adored him. He had no patience for Geralt's melancholy, bullying him into a better mood every time it emerged. When Geralt tried to brood, he would plop himself in Geralt's lap and improvise a new, intentionally dreadful song about how much he loved him. Even when Geralt was at his most monstrous, Dandelion never saw him as anything less than someone to be loved.  </p>
<p>After over an hour of talking, Geralt let out a sigh. "And he's gone. If he was here, he'd tell me to appreciate what's in front of me. And he'd be right."</p>
<p>Geralt curled his fingers around the fretboard and moved his other hand to support the lute, lifting it in both hands. He looked Jaskier in the eye.  </p>
<p>"You need a better lute."</p>
<p>Jaskier blanched. "Geralt,  I can't! This -- it's too much."</p>
<p>"Then say it's mine, and borrow it when you want to play," Geralt said. "You need a better lute. You won't find a better one than this, and you're saving it from gathering dust in my room."</p>
<p>Jaskier stared at the lute. No matter how hard he tried, he could not wrap his head around the idea that the lute was something to be used. But even as he thought so, he caught himself reaching out for it. He jerked his hand back as if burned.  </p>
<p>"I… I'll think about it."</p>
<p>Despite his promise to think about it, Jaskier put the lute out of his mind. It disappeared into Geralt's room, and he tried to pretend the whole conversation had never happened. As beautiful as it was, there was something unsettling about the instrument. Even when he was not looking at it, he was aware of it. If it had eyes, he swore it would have watched him every time he let himself into Geralt's room. It watched him whenever he went in to check on Geralt after a hunt. It watched him when he crept in to retrieve the tracksuit pants Geralt kept steering.  </p>
<p>Worst of all, it watched when he smuggled in a bucket of rose petals on a Saturday morning. Geralt had only been teasing when he had talked about romance, but that didn't mean Jaskier wasn't going to give him the most romantic evening of his life. He changed the sheets and scattered rose petals over the bed. He bought three bottles of Geralt's favourite wine and lit the kitchen and bedroom with candles. He put together a playlist of the most romantic instrumental music he knew and spent three hours obsessing over what outfit to choose.</p>
<p>When Geralt trudged in at 6 o'clock, he was covered in muck. Dismayed, Jaskier hurried him through to the shower. He left a change of clothes outside the bathroom and began the long task of lighting every one of the hundreds of candles he had set up. Fortunately, Geralt took an age in the shower. It was a curse on weekday mornings, as he tended to use up all the hot water, but right now, it came as a blessing. It gave Jaskier the time he needed to put the finishing touches on the evening. Once done, he chose a well-lit spot in the kitchen and positioned himself. It was a carefully chosen position, showing off his best attributes while still looking relaxed and casual.  </p>
<p>"You look ridiculous," Geralt told him, but there was no heat to his words. He looked around the room in wonder. His pupils were dilated, possibly by the low light, but Jaskier told himself it was because he liked what he saw.  </p>
<p>"I look ridiculously good, you mean."</p>
<p>"That, too," Geralt said. There was a tiny smirk on his face, just smug enough to get under Jaskier's skin. If it wasn't so attractive, he would have hated it. As it was, he was torn between outrage and desire.  </p>
<p>"You are without a doubt the worst date I've ever had. You don't even start with hello, you just walk in and insult me," Jaskier said. He poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to Geralt,  deliberately letting their fingers brush as he did. He pitched his voice a notch lower than usual and looked at Geralt through his eyelashes.  </p>
<p>“It's like you don't even want me to seduce you.”</p>
<p>"Never been properly seduced before. It's usually the other way around."</p>
<p>"Well, I want to seduce you," Jaskier said, tapping him on the chest with one finger to emphasise his point. "So unless you've got any objections, you can bloody well shut up and let me spoil you. I didn't light all these candles for nothing."</p>
<p>"It is a hell of a lot of candles," Geralt conceded, looking around.  </p>
<p>“It's for the romantic atmosphere,” Jaskier told him. "I've got it all. Wine, music, food…"</p>
<p>"You really have gone all out," Geralt said. As pleased as he was that Geralt was finally impressed with his efforts, he disliked the undercurrent of confusion in his voice. Jaskier put his glass down.  He then stepped in and lifted a hand to Geralt's cheek. Maintaining eye contact, he said,  </p>
<p>"I did this because you deserve it. I care about you, Geralt. A lot."</p>
<p>For a moment, Geralt's brow furrowed, before his expression relaxed. He reached up and covered Jaskier's hand with his own and turned his face into his palm.  He pressed a soft kiss there and then pulled away. When he looked back at Jaskier, there was a tiny smile tilting the corners of his lips upwards. The expression was small, but it somehow changed his whole face, lines crinkling in the corners of his eyes.  </p>
<p>“If I tell you I love you, will that ruin your plans for the evening?”</p>
<p>Jaskier gaped for a few seconds.  </p>
<p>"Fuck my plans," he said, and kissed him. The wine and food could wait. So long as he had music and Geralt, he was content. He wrapped both arms around Geralt's neck and pulled him in, making a happy little sound in his throat when Geralt took the hint. But after just a few moments, Geralt pulled back.  </p>
<p>"Jaskier," he murmured, and the small smile on his face grew. The sound of his name sent a shiver of warmth through Jaskier. His entire life was built in the shadows of other men, of Julian and Dandelion,  but when he looked in Geralt's eyes, he trusted that the affection there was for him and him alone. Despite Geralt’s hopes and suspicions about his past, he loved Jaskier as he was, not as who he wanted him to be. Jaskier did not have the words to say how much that meant to him. Instead of trying to talk, he kissed Geralt again. When he pulled away, he put both hands on Geralt's cheeks.</p>
<p>"Meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me."</p>
<p>Geralt tried to shake his head, but Jaskier pulled him in for a kiss before he could. He advanced forward, pushing Geralt back until the back of his thighs bumped into the table. Grinning, Jaskier nipped at his jaw and purred in his ear,</p>
<p>“Shall we move this to the bedroom?”</p>
<p>Jaskier felt Geralt’s hands skim down his back and squeeze his rear. They then shifted a little lower and lifted, pulling Jaskier into the air. With a gasp of delight, Jaskier wrapped his thighs around Geralt’s middle for support. One of Geralt’s hands shifted to his back to support him, and Jaskier wrapped both arms around Geralt’s neck. As Geralt carried him through, Jaskier grinned.</p>
<p>“Oh, I could get used to this.”</p>
<p>“Hm. You like being carried?”</p>
<p>“Mm. Reminds me how strong you are,” Jaskier told him, taking a moment to squeeze Geralt’s biceps. He then pressed in close to trail kisses against Geralt’s jaw. When they reached the bedroom, Geralt froze. He stared at the bed with his mouth slightly parted, staring in disbelief. Jaskier grinned.</p>
<p>“Do you like the roses?”</p>
<p>“I like you,” Geralt said, and kissed him again. The next few minutes passed in a haze of mouths and skin-on-skin until Geralt asked,  </p>
<p>“Got any oil?”</p>
<p>“Oil?” Jaskier asked. Confusion broke through the haze of lust surrounding his brain, and he stared at Geralt, bemused. Geralt pulled back, looking equally uncertain.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“I – Geralt, I don’t even know where to begin. How long has it been since you got laid?”</p>
<p>Geralt sat back on his heels, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I, uh – it’s handled if I pay. Yen uses magic when –  we had an arrangement before I met you.”</p>
<p>The news of the arrangement did not surprise Jaskier as much as it perhaps should have. As for paying, it made something odd twist in Jaskier’s heart. There was nothing wrong with paying for sex, but it was an entirely different experience that had plainly led to certain gaps in Geralt’s knowledge.</p>
<p>“Okay. Well, I’m going to go and get some actual lube from upstairs, and you’re going to get undressed. Understand?</p>
<p>Geralt held up his hands in a gesture of defeat. Jaskier slipped past him, muttering under his breath about the foolishness of witchers and the importance of adjusting to the modern world. Completely naked, Jaskier dashed up to his room and opened his bedside drawer for supplies, including a toy-safe water-based lube. By the time he made his way downstairs, Geralt was suitably naked. He lay reclined on the bed, one knee pointing up towards the ceiling. Jaskier took a moment to stare. Ancient and peculiar as he may be, but in his eyes, Geralt was nothing short of stunning. After a moment of leering, though, he saw Geralt’s eyes dip down to examine his own body. Sensing disaster ahead, Jaskier stepped forward.</p>
<p>“Before you ask, I do like what I see.”</p>
<p>“I’m not what you’re used to,” Geralt said cautiously.  </p>
<p>“No. You’re better,” Jaskier said firmly. He took a seat next to him on the bed, for once opting for comfort rather than seductive aesthetic. He had no doubt Geralt wanted him; the battle lay in convincing Geralt that he himself was worthy of desire. He passed the lube to Geralt and said,</p>
<p>“Welcome to the modern era, my love. Lubricant specifically formulated for sexual purposes.”</p>
<p>“Incredible,” Geralt murmured. He squeezed a little out of the tube and inspected it, then lifted it to his nose and sniffed it. “I wonder what they use as a base? Smells like – “</p>
<p>“You can do your experiments on it later. Right now, I have something else in mind,” Jaskier reminded him, and kissed him again.  </p>
<p>When they had at last exhausted themselves and collapsed in a sticky mess, Jaskier let out a groan. “Fuck. The candles.”</p>
<p>Beside him, Geralt grunted. The candles went out with a flick of his hand, leaving them in the dark. Geralt’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight, and Jaskier let out a happy little sigh. There were, he decided, definite advantages to having a lover with a grasp of magic.</p>
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